Business or Pleasure
by makemoremistakes
Summary: The former members of the Rose Council have graduated from Lillian Academy and taken the first steps into their adult lives. But the impending wedding of Ogasawara Sachiko to her cousin, Kashiwagi Suguru, reopens wounds long thought to have healed and rekindles dormant flames. Features all major characters from Season 1 in multiple pairings that I'd rather not spoil in advance. ;)
1. Chapter 1: Sachiko

**A/N:** Thank you for being here! This is my first fanfic, so I will dearly treasure any and all feedback you're willing to share. Before we go, some opening remarks you're more than welcome to skip:

**Rating:** I rated the story T so you'd see it, but be warned: there are some chapters ahead where things get very explicitly sexual. The story needs this because the sexual encounters are crucial for plot and character development. Also—and I know I'm not saying anything new here—I don't really see why the most extreme forms of physical violence seem to be OK for YA stories while explicit descriptions of sexual intimacy aren't. (FWIW, there is no gore here.)

**Pairings:** There will be quite a few, some of them well-established, others (I hope) surprising. All main characters from the anime (season 1) are here, plus one or two from later. But I don't want to spoil the plot twists, so I'd rather not tell you exactly what the pairings will be. Thanks for going with me on this one.

**Length:** This is a novel-length story, divided into five main parts. Part 1, "Business or Pleasure," is made up of seven chapters which should all be up here soon. For Part 2 and beyond, I only have outlines right now. We'll have to see when I get around to writing the actual chapters. Sadly, like most of us, I can't commit to a regular schedule here.

**Source:** I didn't come to Marimite through the light novels or the anime, but directly via fanfiction. My ideas about the characters were forged not by canon but by your interpretations. As I read more and more of your stories, it became clearer and clearer who these characters were (and weren't) to me, and what kinds of similarities they bore to actual people in my life. I only watched the anime once I'd started writing this story, but after season 1 it departed from my vision, so I dropped it. I stick to most aspects of season 1 canon, but not beyond.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Marimite. But I don't think anyone else should either. I fully support the right of creatives to make a living off their work, but not through copyright. Again, nothing new here, but if copyright had existed in premodern times, we wouldn't have the Greek tragedies, we wouldn't have Shakespeare, to only name some blatantly obvious examples. The narrative legacy of our cultures belongs to all of us, not—with all due respect—to so-called "original" authors and definitely, emphatically not to some made-up corporation.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Sachiko**

* * *

"The invitations went out today."

"I know," Ogasawara Sachiko said.

_Of course she knew. She'd known since they were children that she'd be marrying the man standing before her: Kashiwagi Suguru, her cousin. The marriage had been arranged by Sachiko's father Toru, patriarch of the mighty Ogasawara clan and chairman of the Ogasawara Business Group, one of the few major conglomerates in Japan still controlled by a single family. The purpose of the marriage was to keep the business tightly in family hands—or more precisely, Sachiko thought, in the hands of her father._

_For many years now, the board of directors had been pressuring the ailing Toru to appoint a successor. Toru had been in and out of cancer treatment for what seemed like forever, but even in his weakened state, he'd managed to hold off all pretenders to his throne. And in the meantime, he'd forged a plan for strategic retreat. Having no male heir of his own, Toru had decided to adopt Suguru, his sister's son, into the Ogasawara household through marriage. Suguru was young, presentable, and—most importantly, from Toru's point of view—pliable. He would be groomed as the new figurehead of the Ogasawara Group, with Toru controlling him from behind the scenes._

_And Sachiko, as Toru had told her, would finally be able to repay her father for the damage of not having been born male._

"There's no going back now." Suguru attempted one of his trademark lopsided grins. But he looked nervous.

"I know," Sachiko repeated.

_Years ago, when she'd first been told about their engagement, Sachiko had been ecstatic. Suguru was the perfect prince charming. He was tall but not bulky, slim but athletic. He was handsome in a delicate way, with finely chiseled, feminine features. He was elegant and stylish, wearing his tailored shirts and Italian shoes with the ease of a seasoned dandy. He was smart, with a roguish sense of wit that enchanted women and unsettled men. He was born into the right family, raised impeccably, and destined for greatness._

As Suguru peeked through the thick curtains that hid the view onto the grounds of the Ogasawara Mansion, Sachiko looked at him fondly. He was truly fit to marry a fairytale princess.

_She'd been raised to be that princess. From her nannies, she'd learned that she was just like a porcelain doll, pretty and fragile. From her tutors, she'd acquired all the hallmarks of sophistication and grace—the piano and the waltz, ikebana and the tea ceremony, Shakespeare and Lady Murasaki. From her parents, she'd learned gentle submission to the greater good of the family. And from her high school, the elite, Catholic, all-girl Lillian Academy, she'd acquired her moral code, firmly grounded in duty, propriety, and self-abnegation._

Letting the curtain fall back into place, Suguru turned to her. Sachiko averted her gaze. Against her will, her brow furrowed.

_She'd been devastated when he told her he didn't love her. No, she thought, that was neither objective nor fair. He'd said he _couldn't_ love her. But back then, the pain and disappointment had left no room in her for fairness or objectivity. It was only later, gradually, that she'd begun to understand him. Going to Lillian had helped: there, she'd met girls who had no interest in boys, who didn't hate boys but simply couldn't find anything exciting about them. Girls who felt for other girls what she wished Suguru felt for her. What she knew, because he had told her, Suguru could only feel for boys._

"And you're ready for this?" He wasn't smiling anymore.

"I am."

_It had taken her a long time, but yes, she was ready. Sure, love would have been nice. But marriage, for people like Suguru and her, wasn't about love. Great families like the Ogasawaras weren't great because of love. They were great because of duty, loyalty, and internal harmony. Suguru would make an excellent leader—Sachiko knew this, and he did as well. He wouldn't be under Toru's thumb forever. He wanted to lead the family, he deserved to lead the family, and Sachiko would not deny him what was his by right and duty._

_She knew he would take lovers, just as her father and grandfather had. The fact that Suguru's would be men was indifferent to her. He'd told her to do the same, a courtesy—or an insult—that her mother or grandmother would never have received. But Sachiko's revulsion at the idea of an illicit affair was greater than her desire for bodily pleasure, which had never been very strong in the first place. No, she would put up with just enough sex to bear Suguru's children—children she'd raise with her family's sense of duty and obligation, without which a clan like the Ogasawaras couldn't hope to survive. They would be her joy, her fulfilment, her pride._

"What will you say to _her_?"

Sachiko drew a sharp breath. It was the only question she hadn't managed to answer in her mind.

"I… don't know."


	2. Chapter 2: Yumi

**A/N:** Welcome back and thank you for reading on! Quite a few passages here are devoted to backstory from the Marimite anime (season 1). That's because I wanted to make the story accessible to readers who (like me) are discovering Marimite through fanfiction rather than through the light novels or anime. For those of you who've already watched season 1, I hope you'll still have some fun reading this rendition of events from Yumi's perspective. If you haven't watched any Marimite yet, beware of major spoilers, but I suppose that's par for the course.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Yumi**

* * *

"Are you sure this is the right address, miss?" The cab driver cast an incredulous glance at the girl in the back seat as he drove the car up to the massive wrought iron gates.

Fukuzawa Yumi sighed. It was always the same. Whenever she chose to take a cab to visit her onee-sama rather than be picked up by an Ogasawara sedan, the driver simply failed to believe that someone behind these forbidding walls could possibly be waiting for this plain, unremarkable girl.

_No wonder, Yumi thought. I can hardly believe it myself. Five years had passed since the day that Ogasawara Sachiko mowed her down in the hallway of the Rose Mansion, sending both of them crashing to the ground—Yumi first, Sachiko-sama on top. Until that day, Fukuzawa Yumi had just been an average first-year at Lillian Academy—as average as you could be at one of the most selective high schools in Japan. She'd kept her eyes glued to the books, given her best in class, and, like so many of her peers, spent her free time nursing a crush on one of the Lillian stars, an upperclassman she'd never even spoken to. But that day, the unconceivable had happened. The object of her affections had noticed her existence._

"Miss?"

"Just use the intercom, please."

The driver rolled down his window and pushed the button. With a crackle, the device came to life.

"Yes?" asked a harsh, male voice.

"Nakata-san?" Yumi called out from the back seat. "It's me, Yumi!"

"Ah, Yumi-chan!" Immediately, the voice brightened. "Come in, come in!"

The gates swung open without a sound.

_Yumi had been praying in front of the Maria-sama statue on the grounds of Lillian Academy, as most girls did on their way to class in the morning. A strong autumn wind had swept the gingko leaves through the air, tousling Yumi's pigtails and loosening the knot of her sailor collar. She'd just stepped away from the statue when she was stopped in her tracks by a voice she'd only ever heard from a distance—and in her dreams. Yumi turned around, and there she was, right in front of her, as if the wind had carried her there—Ogasawara Sachiko, the Lillian princess par excellence. Yumi straightened her pose, standing at respectful attention. Sachiko-sama was Rosa Chinensis en bouton, after all. Next year, she'd be Rosa Chinensis, one of the three members of the Yamayurikai, the student council that steered the seamless operation of daily life at Lillian._

_Sachiko-sama fixed Yumi's collar, said something about Maria-sama watching them, and, as quickly as she'd appeared, walked out of Yumi's life again._

_But not without casting one last look at Yumi over her shoulder._

_It was that look that did me in, Yumi thought. Sachiko-sama's gray eyes had seemed wistful—Yumi would later find out how easily they moistened because of her allergies. Her long, jet black hair wasn't ruffled by the wind—it was so fine it just floated on the draft. She just stood there for a moment without saying anything, straight but tender, calm but proud, before turning to leave again. But that moment was all it took for Yumi's childish crush to blossom into something else._

As the cab drove up the winding path through the Ogasawara Mansion's grounds—past the luscious groves, manicured lawns, and artificial ponds—Yumi noticed her chatty driver had clammed up. He wasn't making eye contact through the rearview mirror anymore and sat noticeably straighter in his seat.

_But none of it would have mattered, Yumi thought, if it hadn't been for Takeshima Tsutako. Tsutako-chan had been Lillian's resident camera nerd and the driving force behind the student photography club. Yumi didn't know how—nobody ever knew how—but Tsutako-chan had managed to get the perfect shot at the perfect time, a photo of Sachiko-sama gently adjusting a wide-eyed Yumi's collar. "Training," Tsutako-chan had named the photo, and to this day, it remained Yumi's favorite picture with her onee-sama. But Tsutako-chan wasn't just going to hand it over. She'd insisted that Yumi permit her to exhibit the photo at the school festival—and that she acquire Sachiko-sama's permission as well. And so, Yumi had found herself in the Rose Mansion, the Yamayurikai headquarters, a place she would never have dared set foot in if not for that photo, and for Tsutako-chan's nudging presence at her side._

"Here we are, miss. Would you like me to wait?"

"Thank you, that won't be necessary." Yumi paid the driver. Her door clicked open; outside stood the Ogasawara butler, Kobayashi-san.

Taking a deep breath, Yumi stepped out of the cab. A harsh sun beat down on her from the spires of the mansion, a towering gothic edifice more reminiscent of a European castle than a Japanese private residence of the twenty-first century.

_And I'm here to rescue the princess_, she mused.

"Greetings, Fukuzawa-sama," Kobayashi-san addressed her stiffly. "The lady awaits you in the tea room."

_That day, Yumi thought, it was you who came out to me. I was about to knock on the door of the student council meeting room when you stormed out and crashed right into me. No such luck today—you're making me come to you, through the winding halls of your mansion, all the way to your formal tea room. But one thing hasn't changed. Kashiwagi Suguru. The reason we meet today, the reason we met back then._

_Lillian had been preparing a theatre production of Cinderella—for some reason, it hadn't felt ridiculous at the time—and Sachiko-sama was chosen to play the lead. Since Lillian was an all-girl school, the male roles were to be filled by pupils from Hanadera Academy, the nearby, all-boy equivalent of Lillian. And from among the Hanadera students, Suguru-sama had been picked to play the prince._

_As far as Yumi could tell, Sachiko-sama loathed her cousin and fiancé. After all, why shouldn't she? He was an arrogant, insufferable brat to whom she'd been engaged by her family against her will, for business reasons alone. She couldn't stand to be in the same room as him, let alone play his princess. So when the Yamayurikai had announced the casting to Sachiko-sama that day, she'd flat out refused to take part in the play. Mizuno Yoko, Rosa Chinensis at the time, had scolded her for her disobedience. But Sato Sei, the mischievous, tomboyish Rosa Gigantea, had taken a different line. She'd offered Sachiko-sama a choice: if she found a petite soeur willing to assume the role of Cinderella in her place, she'd be excused from the play._

_The soeur system was an integral part of student life at Lillian. It was an informal, voluntary system of patronage whereby an older girl picked a younger one, usually in the year below, to be her petite soeur. All Lillian pupils carried rosaries, and the upperclassman would announce her intentions by offering hers to the younger girl. If the rosary was accepted, the grande soeur, or onee-sama, assumed responsibility for her petite soeur's moral and educational progress. Since Lillian was a three-year school, it wasn't uncommon for a second-year to have a grande soeur in the year above and, at the same time, a petite soeur from among the first-years. Yoko-sama was Sachiko-sama's grande soeur, but Sachiko-sama had been putting off finding a petite soeur of her own for quite some time. Technically, of course, she didn't need to have one at all, but it was Yamayurikai custom for the three Roses—Chinensis, Gigantea, and Foetida—to pass on their posts to their petite soeurs upon graduation, and Sachiko-sama's reluctance was endangering the tradition._

_At least until that day, when Sachiko-sama accepted Sato Sei's challenge._

_Yumi knew very well that right under the surface of breeding and decorum drilled into her onee-sama since childhood, there lay an untamed, ferocious, primordial temper. Yumi likened this temper to a tiger just lying in wait for the slightest provocation to burst out of its cage and rip everything around it to shreds. It could be provoked by the most disparate things—a perceived insult, a transgression against Sachiko-sama's unyielding sense of justice, or even a display of stupidity that she simply wouldn't abide. More often than not, Yumi had to admit, her onee-sama's anger was justified. But her reaction was so disproportionate that it risked putting her in the wrong even if she was right, or causing more harm to herself than those against whom she lashed out._

_Sometimes, those who provoked Sachiko-sama's ire had no idea what they'd done and were taken completely by surprise as they were annihilated by her fury. And sometimes, Yumi thought, they knew exactly what they were doing. Sato Sei knew Sachiko-sama well—their mothers had been classmates at Lillian, and Sei-sama herself was a frequent guest at the Ogasawara Mansion. She also knew perfectly well that forcing Sachiko-sama to pick a petite soeur would be as offensive to her as making her play the princess, and that Sachiko-sama would do something extreme to pay back the offense. Yumi suspected that Sei-sama, who was a hopeless tease, had just been curious to see what that something would be._

_As it turned out, that something was Sachiko-sama rushing to the door, determined to spite the Yamayurikai by giving her rosary to the first girl she ran into._

_And that, quite literally, had been Yumi._

By now, Yumi was quite adept at finding her way around the maze-like interior of the Ogasawara Mansion. Nonetheless, as custom dictated, she let Kobayashi-san lead the way.

"How has Sachiko-sama been?" she asked carefully.

"The lady is in good health," the butler replied.

"Nothing… out of the ordinary?"

"The ordinary has no place in a house like this."

Yumi lowered her eyes to the marble floor. Kobayashi-san was a snob, one of the few Ogasawara retainers that had never warmed to her presence. Yumi wondered if that was why he'd been sent out to greet her today. Why hadn't Sachiko-sama come to the door herself? Could it be that, with recent events, Yumi wasn't welcome anymore?

Stop it, she chastised herself. You're overreading things again.

_In the end, Sachiko-sama's breeding had overcome her revulsion, and she had played Cinderella opposite Suguru-sama's prince. But she'd also kept Yumi on as her petite soeur. And so had begun a triangular relationship that Yumi was still trying to master. Over the years, Yumi and her onee-sama had grown fonder and more intimate, their initially formal relationship replaced by something increasingly personal. At the same time, Sachiko-sama's wedding, originally scheduled to take place upon her graduation from Lillian, had been delayed again and again, until Yumi had dared to hope that it wouldn't take place at all._

_And then she'd received the invitation._

"Fukuzawa Yumi-sama has arrived, young lady."

The butler's formal announcement brought Yumi back to the here and now. They were standing at the entrance to the tea room. A large set of doors had been swung open to reveal the baroquely decorated hall; in it stood a number of round tables, each covered with exquisite lace tablecloths. At the far end of the hall, massive floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of the grounds behind the mansion. And right by the windows, at a table bedecked with the full accoutrements of an English afternoon tea, sat Ogasawara Sachiko.

"Yumi-chan! Finally!"

The heiress rose from her chair. She was wearing a cream-colored dress, tailor-made but understated, that accentuated her feminine figure without revealing too much skin. That was how Sachiko-sama liked it: Yumi had never seen her stoop to cheap tricks like cleavage, even though she had fuller breasts than most Japanese girls. Yumi herself had tried to dress nicely for the occasion, in a white blouse and a knee-length pencil skirt, but as always, she felt more awkward than attractive, not to mention hopelessly outclassed in her onee-sama's presence.

Giving the butler a quick bow, she walked up to Sachiko-sama, who pulled her into a tight embrace. At least her hug is still the same, the younger girl thought with relief. Sachiko-sama hated being touched, and it had taken Yumi a long time to reach this level of intimacy with her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Sachiko-sama had put on her light, jasmine-scented summer perfume. Her skin, as usual, was cool to the touch.

"I missed you, onee-sama," Yumi confessed. Every second of every day, she added to herself.

"Don't be silly." Sachiko-sama broke their embrace, holding Yumi at arm's length and fixing her with a fond gaze. "It's only been a couple of weeks."

They sat down across from each other. A maid appeared and poured the tea.

"Thank you," Sachiko-sama said. "That will be all."

"As the lady wishes." The maid bowed and left the room, closing the doors behind her.

"So, Yumi-chan, how have you been?" Sachiko-sama asked cheerfully. "How is college treating you?"

"Fine, onee-sama, thank you."

"How about your parents, and Yuuki-chan?"

"They're fine too, thank you." Yumi looked down at her plate. "They send their regards."

"Well… how about the gang? Have you seen any of them lately?"

"Not really." Yumi kept her eyes on the empty plate. "I did visit Sei-sama at Lillian U, um, I think it was last week? And I see Yoshino-chan a lot around school. We often get coffee together."

"And they're well?"

"Yes."

"Oh my, Yumi-chan." Sachiko-sama laughed softly. "I can hardly get in a word with you today. Is something the matter?"

Is something the matter, Yumi repeated to herself. What kind of question was that? Sachiko-sama knew why she was here today. Yumi had called her in advance, telling her she wanted to discuss the wedding. So why was her onee-sama being so casual? Was there really nothing wrong as far as she was concerned? Or had she just decided to act that way?

Yumi cleared her throat and forced her eyes up to meet Sachiko-sama's gaze. "Onee-sama, as I told you on the phone, I'm here about the wedding."

"I know." Sachiko-sama's expression changed. She looked more serious now, even a tad apologetic. "And I'm glad that you came."

"Thank you." Yumi breathed a sigh of relief. At least she'd managed to broach the subject. But what next? The fact was that she had no clue how to talk about it, this elephant in the room that had been silently sitting between them for the past five years without either of them daring to point it out.

"I have to say," she began cautiously, "the invitation caught me by surprise."

"Because you received one? Or because there was one at all?"

"The latter, I guess. The whole thing was delayed so often I thought…"

"You thought it would never happen."

"Yes." Yumi paused. "Actually, to be honest, most of the time I tried not to think about it at all. Maybe some part of me believed that if I just ignored it, it would go away on its own."

"That's a very… wishful way of looking at life."

"I know." Yumi swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

For wasting five years, Yumi thought. For not saying a word to let you know how I feel. For not opening my mouth to tell you this engagement is bullshit. For not offering you support to try and end it. For thinking I could get away with all this and you'd still somehow, magically, end up mine.

"Onee-sama." Yumi steeled herself. "Are you sure it's actually happening this time?"

"Yes." Sachiko-sama sounded firm. "This time it's definite."

"Why?"

"Isn't that a strange question?"

"Please, onee-sama."

"Alright." Sachiko-sama paused, seemingly searching for the right words. "The wedding was only put off for so long because my father didn't feel sick enough to hand over the business to Suguru. If he was well today, it'd be postponed again. But… he isn't. That's why the invitations were so rushed."

_Yumi felt a shift in the tectonic plates of her world. Somehow, perhaps because of how they'd met, she'd always believed that fate was on her side when it came to her onee-sama. That the wedding wasn't happening because some cosmic force was keeping Sachiko-sama and Suguru-sama apart, waiting for Sachiko-sama to realize her undying love for Yumi. But clearly, as Yumi now pondered with more than a hint of sarcasm, that had never been the case. She had simply profited from a sick man's reluctance to give up his power. She'd been little more than an unwitting beneficiary of his ploys. And now, the same ploys were casting her aside without even acknowledging she'd been there in the first place. All of a sudden, Yumi felt a little more scared and alone in the world._

"And you're really going to do this?" A nervous edge had crept into her tone.

"Yes, I am."

"But _why_?" Yumi was startled by the loudness of her own voice. And so, it appeared, was Sachiko-sama, whose eyes widened as she leaned back in her chair.

"You know why, Yumi-chan," she whispered.

"Onee-sama, I know we should have talked about this earlier," Yumi said. "Much, much earlier. And I know I'm in no position to ask this of you now. But please… onee-sama… don't marry him."

"I beg your pardon?" Sachiko-sama seemed genuinely taken aback.

"Don't marry him, onee-sama," Yumi said. "He won't make you happy."

"There's more than one way to be happy."

"Onee-sama, _no_!" Again, Yumi was shocked at how loudly that had come out. She took a breath to calm herself. "Please don't lecture me."

"Then… what would you like me to do?"

"Don't marry him," Yumi repeated. "You don't love him."

"It's not _about_ love, Yumi-chan. You know that."

"It _is_ about love!"

Against her better judgement, Yumi had shouted again. That made three times in a row, and Sachiko-sama normally drew the line at one. Yumi watched in apprehension as her onee-sama stiffened and placed her hands on the table. Her eyes darkened, and she fixed Yumi with a cold stare.

"Why are you telling me all this?" the heiress asked in a harsh but controlled voice. "I don't love him, he won't make me happy, don't you think I know all that? I've been engaged to Suguru since I was a child! Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No, onee-sama," Yumi answered quietly. "I don't think you're stupid."

"Then what, exactly, is your point?" Sachiko-sama's anger was unabated. "Are you trying to make me angry?"

There it is, Yumi thought. The tiger. Once Sachiko-sama had declared her opinion on a matter, it was almost impossible to dissuade her. She could accept—though not without strain—that other people's views might diverge from hers. She was also willing—in principle—to tolerate those views being aired in her presence. But if people insisted on their opinions even though Sachiko-sama had already let her own view be known, she didn't take it kindly. To her, such people weren't so much trying to change her mind as stubbornly ignoring the fact that her mind was already made up. It was disrespectful. If this behavior came from someone Sachiko-sama didn't know, or knew only casually, she put on what she believed was a polite smile—and most others read as a condescending smirk—and remained silent. But if it came from someone who should have known better, she could get, well, annoyed. And when Sachiko-sama got annoyed, the tiger was never far.

Yumi realized she'd danced around the subject for too long. The only way she could salvage this conversation now was by cutting straight to the chase.

"I'm sorry, Sachiko-sama." She gave her onee-sama a pleading look. "All the stuff I said, it isn't really about you. It's about me."

"About you?" Sachiko-sama's frown gave way to concern. "What do you mean?"

"It's me, onee-sama. You may be able to bear marrying him, but I can't bear to see you do it. Not because of you. Because of me."

"Because of… you?"

This is it, Yumi thought. Speak now or hold your peace forever.

"Yes, onee-sama." She swallowed hard. "I love you."

"I…" Sachiko-sama seemed perplexed. "I love you too?"

"No. Not like that. I love you. I love you the way that Suguru-sama should."

"Yumi-chan, you… what?"

"You heard me, Sachiko." In a bold move, Yumi skipped the honorific. "I love you. And I can make you happy. In fact, I think I already do. Give me a chance, Sachiko. Just one chance, and I will devote my entire life to making you happy. When you wake up in the morning, I'll be there to make you happy. When we go to bed in the evening…"

"Yumi… how long have you felt this way?" Sachiko had dropped the honorific as well, but Yumi couldn't tell if it was out of sympathy or shock.

"I've known it since the first time we talked in front of the Maria-sama statue."

"When I… your collar…"

"Yes."

For an instant, the room was very still, and Yumi allowed herself to register that she'd just said it all out loud, told her onee-sama all that she'd been holding inside for five long years. She felt dizzy.

"Thank you, Yumi," Sachiko-sama finally said. This time, it was the older girl who kept her eyes on her untouched plate. "I know this can't have been easy for you to share. But I need you to go home now."

"What? Sachiko, why?"

"I'm not feeling so well, dear Yumi." Sachiko-sama started massaging the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "I think it's the migraine again. Please don't be cross with me. I'll ask Kobayashi-san to escort you out. A driver will take you home, of course."


	3. Chapter 3: Yumi

**A/N:** Welcome to the third chapter, and thank you for making it so far! Again, you'll find some passages of anime season 1 backstory interspersed in the narrative, for reasons mentioned in the A/N to chapter 2. Don't worry, though: these flashbacks will fade out once we've met all the main players and covered the anime content that is essential to understanding characters and relationships.

**Rating:** For the first time, in this chapter, we'll have some profanity as Yumi loosens up a bit in the presence of a certain older Lillian alumna. Nothing earth-shattering, just a stray f-bomb or two. :)

Please drop me a line to let me know how this story is working for you so far. Since all your stories played such an important part in shaping mine, I'd love to hear what this one does (and doesn't) for you!

* * *

**Chapter 3: Yumi**

* * *

Entering the cafeteria of Lillian University, Yumi had no trouble spotting her date from across the hall. Nonetheless, as she always did with this person when she had the chance, she took a moment to take her in before walking up to her. The tall, thin blonde was alone. She sat with her back against the wall, casually leaning on her table while sucking on a soda through a straw. Her hair, which she'd cut short upon graduating from Lillian Academy, had grown back into a fierce mane that curled around the massive black headphones she wore before reaching down to her shoulders. She was dressed in a white tank top and a pair of tattered jeans shorts, granting a generous view of her long, flawless legs, which she'd crossed in a pose of throwaway allure. Her feet, in a pair of untied Chuck Taylors, were in motion, the right one tapping to an inaudible beat while the other swung restlessly in the air.

She was no classical Japanese beauty like Yumi's onee-sama—her frame was too imposing, her posture too slovenly, her face too expressive. But her features were unique, a felicitous blend of western and Japanese traits that made her the center of attention in any group. And she had a natural charisma, an animal magnetism the likes of which Yumi had never seen in another person.

She seemed lost in thought and music, oblivious to the world around her and the effect she was having on it. But Yumi knew better—her date was well aware of how she affected people and did her best to cultivate this impression. Still, for some reason that Yumi couldn't fathom, she was too self-effacing to acknowledge it, let alone bask in it. Yumi knew she was only sitting alone because no one dared intrude on her formidable aura—the occasional, furtive glances cast her way from other tables were proof of that—but if you'd asked the girl herself, she'd have said it was because no one liked her.

"Sei-sama!" Yumi called out as she approached the table. The girl, still wearing her headphones, seemed not to notice.

"Sei-samaaa!" Yumi propped herself up in front of the girl and wagged a finger in her face.

Sato Sei cocked up her head and fixed Yumi with a mock-annoyed glance. As she slid off her headphones, the screeching noise of an electric guitar clawed at Yumi's ears.

"I told you to stop calling me that."

_Yes, Yumi thought, you did tell me. But old habits die hard. Sato Sei had been Rosa Gigantea the year Yumi entered Lillian Academy. Among the three Rose Families that made up the Yamayurikai, the Giganteas were the odd ones out. The Foetidas, to whom Yumi's best friend Yoshino belonged, were the well-adjusted family, perhaps most representative of the general Lillian populace. The Chinensis, including Sachiko-sama and her grande soeur Mizuno Yoko, were the most driven and commanding ones, usually assuming a natural leadership role on the council. But the Giganteas—and Sato Sei was a Gigantea to the core—were the rebels. They were misfits, charismatic outsiders who could be brilliant and erratic, kind-hearted and moody, mischievous and fragile in equal measure._

_Sei-sama was the only professed lesbian Yumi knew. It was thanks to her existence that Yumi could even conceive of dating another girl. But the former Rosa Gigantea had done so much more for Yumi—and to Yumi—than merely exist. From Yumi's first day at the Rose Mansion, Sei-sama had adopted her as a kind of pet, cuddling, squeezing, and groping the younger girl whenever she got the chance, or rather, when other Yamayurikai members were around to take offense. Of course, this mostly meant Sachiko-sama, who had flown into a rage on more than one occasion as Sei-sama's tentacles ensnared her helpless and mortified petite soeur. Sometimes, Yumi wondered whether Sei-sama had cared more about irking Sachiko-sama or embarrassing Yumi herself. The answer was probably both._

_Being alone with Sei-sama was a completely different story. She never made Yumi feel uncomfortable in the slightest when alone. On such occasions, the equally enticing and exasperating pain in the butt that was Sato Sei transformed into a thoughtful older sister figure who often went out of her way just to help Yumi out. In Yumi's first year, when she and her grande soeur were still cautiously circling each other like animals from different species, Sei-sama had intervened again and again to bring the two closer together, be it by arranging sleepovers at the Ogasawara Mansion or by giving Yumi absurd assignments that were sure to make Sachiko-sama laugh._

_One day, just before Sei-sama's graduation, Yumi had found herself alone in a Lillian classroom with her. She'd thanked the older girl for having taken her under her wing. Jokingly, Sei-sama had suggested that Yumi repay her with a kiss. Yumi had laughed and headed for the door, but then, much to her own surprise, she'd stopped, turned around, and planted a small peck on the corner of Sei-sama's lips—Sei's lips. It was the first—and only—time that Yumi had kissed a girl like that._

"Sorry." Yumi couldn't hide a little smile. "I meant Sei."

"Much better," Sei replied with a wink. "C'mon, let's get out of here." She grabbed Yumi by the hand and made for the cafeteria exit. As they left the hall hand in hand, Yumi saw several heads turn to watch them. That'll give them something to talk about, she mused.

Outside, a pleasant breeze tickled Yumi's skin. The weather was lovely, sunny but cooler than yesterday during her visit with Sachiko-sama. As she allowed Sei to lead her who knew where, she took in her surroundings. The grounds of Lillian U were neat but unadorned, the university buildings functional and drab. The whole campus was a letdown compared to the elaborate English gardens and collegiate gothic buildings of the high school.

_In fact, Yumi pondered, the entire university was little more than a footnote in Lillian history. It had been founded about 20 years ago thanks to a donation drive by wealthy parents who realized their daughters—the eligible bachelorettes of Japanese high society—were no longer getting married straight out of high school. Intended to provide a respectable holding pattern for such girls while they awaited a suitable match, the university lacked the reputation for moral discipline and academic excellence that had made the high school a household name since the early twentieth century._

_In a way, Yumi thought, it was ironic. High society girls had been Lillian Academy's original clientele, and most Japanese people still thought of them when they heard the school's name. But in the wake of World War II, with the rise of a new middle class, the high school had opened its gates to the daughters of low-born but socially ambitious parents—parents like Yumi's. The new girls had faced plenty of scorn from their aristocratic peers, who ridiculed them as climbers, but their self-sacrificing work ethic had lifted Lillian Academy into the top ten of Japanese high schools, elevating the institution from a prestigious finishing school to a genuine academic powerhouse. And now, while many high-born Lillian graduates went on to the pointless Lillian U, strivers like Yumi wouldn't even dream of settling for it._

_Yumi herself had used Lillian as a springboard to get into Tokyo University, one of the top schools in Japan. So had her friend Yoshino. Sachiko-sama was at the other end of the spectrum: her family was old money even by Lillian standards, and since they'd engaged her to Suguru long ago, they hadn't bothered to send her to college at all. Sei, however, was an enigma. She came from a prominent family, but her marriage prospects in Japanese high society were nil—even if she hadn't been a lesbian, which Yumi doubted her family knew, her mixed race literally put her beyond the pale. Grades weren't an issue, either—Sei could have easily gone to Tokyo University, or even abroad. So, if it wasn't about grades, marriage, or social class, what was Sato Sei doing at Lillian U?_

"Here we are." Sei pushed open a creaky metal door to reveal an expansive terrace. They had arrived at the top of a university building—the tallest one on campus, as far as Yumi could tell. The space was deserted and almost completely bare save for some metal chimneys, air conditioning outlets, and other functional equipment. The only safeguard at the edge of the roof was a knee-high ledge, and Yumi felt pretty sure students weren't allowed up here. But there were no prying eyes, the breeze was cool and stiff, and the view was expansive, granting a panorama of Tokyo all the way to the center.

"One of my secret lairs," Sei said as she led the younger girl onwards. Behind a row of chimneys, Yumi glimpsed an old beach chair strategically placed just by the ledge to catch the best view of the city. They walked up to it.

"Have a seat," Sei offered.

"Thanks." Yumi sat down in the chair and stretched her legs out over the ledge. Sei plopped down on the floor across from Yumi, with her back to the view.

"So." Sei squinted at Yumi, the sun in her eyes. "Where's the fire?"

"I… I'm sorry I called you so late last night, Sei. You must have been worried."

"You know constant apologizing is one of your less attractive traits, right?"

"So I've been told." Yumi smiled. She had barely slept all night and gotten up feeling like she'd been run over by a truck. But now, lounging in this comfy chair with a bird's eye view of the city, the sun warming her skin while the breeze cooled her down, she could feel herself start to relax. "Did you bring this chair up here?"

"All by my lonesome."

"And nobody stopped you?"

"What can I say?" Sei shrugged. "People let me get away with things."

"I wish I'd been that lucky yesterday."

"What happened yesterday?"

"Oh, nothing, really. I just confessed my undying love to Sachiko-sama and she threw me out the door."

"You _what_?" Sei coughed violently. "Damn, girl, I almost choked on my own spit!"

"Yup. That's what I did."

"Yumi, I…" Sei crossed her legs and leaned closer to Yumi. "I don't even know where to start. I mean, I know you've been crushing on Sa-chan for years, but a formal declaration of love? That's bold."

"Yeah, I know. I think the wedding invitation pushed me over the edge."

"That would do it, I guess." Sei paused. "But does that mean… you've decided you're into girls?"

"No." Yumi grimaced. "I mean, maybe. I don't know. I haven't thought about it… globally, you know? I found out that onee-sama was getting married, and I just needed to do something, say something."

"And she kicked you out?"

"Yup. It was tough. I didn't know what to do. I was mortified my parents would notice something. I locked myself in my room. And then I thought of calling you."

"At four in the morning."

"Yes." Yumi suppressed the urge to apologize. "I couldn't get a wink. I just kept thinking of…" Her lips were starting to tremble. "… of how stupid I am. I spent five years with her, Sei. And I did nothing. Absolutely nothing. And then I just show up and spring this on her, completely out of the blue? I mean, how did I think she'd react?"

"Shh." Sei put a hand on Yumi's leg. "It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is!" She couldn't hold in the tears anymore. "I fucked up! I knew how I felt about her all along—I guess _everyone_ knew—and I did nothing! What did I expect, that she'd just wake up one day and throw herself into my arms?"

"Hey. Go easy on yourself. We're talking about Sa-chan here. I think you can be forgiven for being a little… hesitant. And besides, how do you know that telling her earlier would've made any difference? How do you know she'd even be interested in girls that way?"

"I just do, Sei. I felt it." Yumi didn't know how, but she had. "I mean, I don't think she's gay…"

"More like asexual," Sei mused. "Or should I say anti-sexual?"

"…maybe, but with the right person, I know she'd be open to it. But I never made the effort to become that person."

"You?" Sei laughed. "You never made the effort? You spent more time with Sa-chan than anyone besides the help!"

"Yes, but I wasted it! I spent all that time trying to be her petite soeur, trying to make her accept me in that role. She never got to see me as anything else!"

"Okay, settle down." Sei moved around Yumi and put her hands on the younger girl's back, gently rubbing the tension out of her shoulders. Yumi let herself relax into Sei's touch. A sigh escaped her lips. There was always a physical spark when she was around the former Rosa Gigantea—Yumi knew that by now, and she was used to it. Sei handed her a tissue and Yumi proceeded to dispel any tenderness in the moment by blowing her nose in the most unladylike way imaginable.

"What exactly did she say to you?" Sei asked. "I mean, she must have said something."

"Let me see. At first, I tried to talk her out of the marriage without telling her how I felt. I mean, she can't _want_ to get married to him, right?"

"Course not. She's just doing it because she's supposed to."

"But she wouldn't have any of it. And then she yelled at me for telling her stuff she already knew."

"Sounds like Sa-chan, alright."

"So I just decided to go for it. I mean, I hadn't prepared anything to say, I hadn't thought the whole thing through at all. I suppose I was too afraid to even think about having that conversation. I guess I thought I'd just know what to say when the time came."

"So… what? You just said I love you?"

"More or less. And I…" even Yumi had to smile at this part. "I called her Sachiko."

"Ha! A big step for you, a small one for mankind."

They both laughed hard at this. Actually, Yumi thought, it was more sad than funny that she couldn't even call the woman she loved by her name. But Sei was the kind of person who'd rather laugh at her own folly than cry over it, and right now, Yumi could see the merit in that. She felt their laughter begin to soothe all the heartache building up in her since she'd received the invitation. But Yumi wasn't the only one relaxing; she sensed that the laughter was helping Sei as well. Now that she thought about it, the former Rosa Gigantea had seemed unusually subdued while listening to her little story. Had Yumi hit a nerve? Had she, perhaps, reminded Sei of her own first time confessing to a girl, only to be turned down? Had she reminded Sei of Shiori?

"And then she kicked you out." Sei had pulled herself together again. She sat back down across from Yumi.

"Yes," Yumi continued. "She apologized, though. She said she wasn't feeling well."

"She wasn't angry?"

"No. It felt more like she was in shock. I think it was too much for her. She had the driver take me home."

"So she didn't actually tell you…"

"No." Yumi felt surprised by this, as if she'd only just thought of it herself. "She didn't actually say she didn't want me. In fact, she even thanked me. She told me it must have taken a lot of courage for me to tell her what I did."

Sei didn't say anything.

"I wonder what she meant by that," Yumi went on. "Did she mean that I have the courage, but she doesn't? Maybe she wishes she had it too. Maybe she sent me away because she was afraid of what she'd say if she didn't. Sei… do you think I might have a chance?"

"I…" Sei seemed flustered. "I don't know."

_Yes, Yumi thought. I've definitely hit a nerve. The story of Sei and Shiori was Lillian legend; sooner or later, every Lillian student who crushed on another girl heard about it. Sei had been in her second year when it happened; she'd fallen hard for an underclassman by the name of Kubo Shiori. They'd started spending all their time together, and rumor had it they'd even become lovers. But Shiori was preparing to enter a convent, and her relationship with Sei, which she regarded as a grave sin, weighed heavily on her conscience. Eventually, she'd started avoiding Sei. But Sei had confronted her, right in Lillian chapel, and dared Shiori to say to her face that she chose Maria-sama over her. Wavering in her resolve, Shiori had relented. They'd vowed to run away together, agreeing to pack their things and meet up at a train station the very same evening. But Shiori had never shown up, neither at the station nor at Lillian, ever again. She'd decided to follow her calling after all. By all accounts, Sei had never been the same after that night. Does she see herself in me? Yumi wondered. And does she see Shiori in Sachiko-sama?_

"But I wouldn't give up until I was absolutely sure." The uncertainty in Sei's voice had given way to resolve.

"Sei, there's nothing more I can do. I spilled my guts to her. It was humiliating."

"So what?" Sei asked irritably. "You can't be humiliated twice? Your pride is so precious to you?"

"What about you?" Yumi shot back. "Did you go after…" Her voice trailed off as she hesitated to finish the sentence. She'd only talked to Sei about Shiori once—it hadn't been a conversation, really; Yumi had been curious, so Sei had told her the story—and that had been years ago.

"Go on, ask. I won't bite."

"Did you keep pursuing Shiori after she stood you up at the station that night?"

"No." Sei turned her head, looking out over the vast, anonymous expanse of downtown Tokyo. "I thought I'd changed her mind but I was wrong—it seemed pointless to try again." She shrugged. "I don't know, maybe my pride was too precious as well. Or maybe I couldn't risk the pain of another rejection. Or maybe I was afraid that she'd look at me differently—some desperate loser who can't take no for an answer and hounds her all the way to the convent!" She snorted.

"I can't imagine anyone calling you a loser."

"That's kind of you," Sei whispered.

"But what about your friends? I mean, I get that you couldn't go yourself, but didn't anyone try to talk to her?"

"Nope." Sei turned back to Yumi, smiling wryly. "We were a scandal. They all thought she was better off in the convent than with me."

"And Sachiko-sama? Is she better off married to Suguru?"


	4. Chapter 4: Sei

**A/N:** Welcome to chapter 4—dare I assume this means you're in it for the long haul? :)

**Rating:** More profanity here, but that's Sei for you. I guess she thinks it's cool or something.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Sei**

* * *

"Yeah, fuck you too!"

Sei raised a finger at the honker in the rearview mirror as she finished her perilous swerve into his lane. She'd had the yellow beetle—not a vintage beetle; one of the new, expensive ones—since graduating from Lillian Academy, but she still wasn't used to it, still didn't feel comfortable driving in it. Most of the time, she used public transport or walked, only getting the car out of the garage when she was headed for some god-forsaken neck in the woods like the Ogasawara Mansion, her destination today.

_She wondered why she'd never really made peace with the car. Was it just because she didn't like cars—it was true enough; they were noisy, stinky, ugly, and potentially deadly—or was it because the car wasn't truly hers? Her parents had picked and bought it, it was registered in her mother's name, and every time she visited them, they demanded a veritable status report on its well-being. Maybe they were just trying to make sure that Sei used it responsibly, but she'd gotten so fed up with their meddling that she found it easiest to avoid the car altogether._

_Not to mention how perversely satisfying it was to tell her parents that she hadn't driven the car since her last visit. Her stepfather would get angry, insisting that an unused car lost value more quickly than one that was regularly used, her mother would remind her how much they'd spent on the car, and the whole conversation would end with Sei telling them to take it back if they were so bothered. But of course they wouldn't do that—it would have given them one less thing to hassle her about._

_It was also because of her parents that Sei had to deal with Sa-chan. Sei's mother and Sa-chan's mother, Ogasawara Sayako, had attended Lillian Academy together. They didn't see much of each other these days, and Sei didn't know what kind of friendship they'd had at Lillian, but Aunt Sayako—and yes, she'd specifically asked Sei to call her that—was bizarrely fond of Sei and invited her over every chance she got. As a result, Sei and Sa-chan, who was only one year younger, had grown up somewhat like cousins—not quite friends, but still, somehow, more than friends. It hadn't always been easy. Sa-chan was a piece of work—with the possible exception of Sei's mother, she was the most stubborn person Sei knew—and Sei herself had almost zero talent for making friends, let alone hanging on to them. But over the years, they'd never lost their respect for each other. And given the high standards Sei knew she and the Ogasawara heiress shared, that was worth something._

Sei pulled up outside the Ogasawara Mansion and handed her keys to the valet. As she looked over the mother and daughter who'd come to the entrance to greet her, she just hoped that today's visit wouldn't put an end to her odd relationship with them.

"Sei-chan, welcome!"

"Good afternoon, Aunt Sayako. Sa-chan."

Sei bowed politely to the woman and shot the girl a wink. As always, Ogasawara Sayako was the picture of elegant poise. The petite woman was dressed in a beautiful, dark kimono with floral embroidery. Her black hair was tied back in a bun, exposing her delicate features. She wore just the right touch of make-up to complement the colors of her kimono, making Sei, who was useless at make-up, marvel at her skill. Aunt Sayako was only in her forties, but she carried herself like an older woman, which may have been because her husband Toru was at least ten years her senior and chronically ill. It may also have been because the bastard openly kept a mistress. He doesn't deserve you, Sei thought. If I was your age, I'd steal you away in a heartbeat.

Next to her mother stood Sa-chan, similar on the surface but ever so different inside. Her face was as beautiful as her mother's but framed by her long, raven hair that she wore untied as was her habit. She was a little taller than Aunt Sayako and stood as straight as her, but while the older woman seemed to inhabit her disciplined posture with natural ease, Sa-chan, as always, seemed on the verge of breaking out of it in a fit of violent passion. Both women had a razor-sharp wit, a tongue to match, and a very short fuse, but while Sa-chan was about as subtle as a hammer to the head, Aunt Sayako's weapons of choice were stinging irony and a sweet smile. Perhaps, Sei thought, Aunt Sayako was Sa-chan with the rough edges smoothened out.

Sa-chan was wearing a navy blue linen dress, a thin white cardigan, and brown leather sandals. She looked pretty but inconspicuous, almost as if she was already practicing the role of the demure, obedient housewife. Sei herself had decided on punk chic for the occasion, which meant a pair of black Doc Martens, red checkered pants, a loose designer t-shirt with no bra underneath, and a form-fitting black leather jacket. The three of them, Sei pondered, couldn't have been more mismatched if they'd tried. And still, somehow, something glued them together.

"Come here and give me a hug, my yellow alley cat!"

"Aw, Aunt Sayako." Sei bent down and awkwardly embraced the woman, trying her best not to rumple her kimono.

"I know you girls have a lot to talk about, but it's such a lovely day. The sun is hiding, and it hasn't been this cool in weeks. Why don't you join me on a stroll down to the lake?"

"Mother, we'd rather…"

"Tut-tut, Sachiko," Aunt Sayako said with a smile.

"Yes, mother."

"So, Sei-chan, tell me how you've been." Aunt Sayako hooked into Sei's arm and started walking her away from the mansion at a leisurely pace. Sa-chan had no choice but to tag along. "I take it you aren't still at that dreadful university."

Sei snorted. "Sadly, I am. But to be honest, it _is_ dreadful, so I'm thinking of dropping out."

Sa-chan inhaled sharply at this, but her mother only chuckled. "Oh my," she said. "And does your mother know?"

"Not yet." Sei winked at Aunt Sayako. "And I'd appreciate your discretion in this matter."

"Don't worry, your secrets are safe with me. But tell me, since we're all agreed that place is a waste of time, what do you _do_ with all your time?"

"Well. I do quite a bit of writing, as you know. For literature journals, but also lyrics for bands. I go to a lot of concerts, check out all the new music, and… um…"

"Yes?"

"I… I just got a job at a bar."

Again, Sa-chan's sharp breath mingled with her mother's chuckle.

"That sounds absolutely riveting," Aunt Sayako said. "Pray tell more!"

"Well, I… I know the people who run the place, and they were short-handed behind the counter, so I helped them out a few times. They ended up offering me a job, and I thought, why not? It can't hurt to earn a bit of my own money, right? And it's a new kind of experience. I had to train, of course—I knew nothing about drinks or cocktails or anything else at a bar—but I've pretty much got the hang of it now. I still don't know why they didn't just hire a real bartender, though." Sei shrugged.

"I think I might hazard a guess." Aunt Sayako looked Sei up and down, smiling mischievously. "Who comes to this bar of yours?"

"Who? Uh… young people, mostly. Not really students, though. More like young professionals."

"Couples?"

"Well, generally it's more like…"

"People wanting to be couples?"

"You could put it that way, yes."

"Couples with whom?"

"With… other people? Like themselves?"

"How much like themselves?"

"Um… very much?"

"As much as a man and a man? Or a woman and another woman?"

"Mother, I think that's quite enough." Sa-chan stopped in her tracks; they had reached the lake. "Sei-sama isn't here for an interrogation."

"Oh! Please forgive my manners, Sei-chan." Aunt Sayako smiled. "I'm taking up too much of your time. I'm just a bored lady with not enough work to do, while you young people lead such full and exciting lives. I'll let you two get on with it. Sei-chan, I leave my daughter in your capable hands. Tell her to get out more. Maybe she could visit you at your bar some time."

She pecked Sei on the cheek and headed back to the mansion with a wave, leaving both girls staring in her wake.

"I apologize, Sei-sama," Sa-chan said. "I have no idea why she is like that."

"Hey, why are _you_ apologizing for _her_? Besides, I adore your mother."

"I know. Which scares me even more."

They walked up to a row of willows arching into the lake. Sei took off her jacket, spread it underneath a tree, and motioned Sa-chan to sit down.

"There is a bench a bit further down the shore, you know?" Sa-chan said.

"Yeah, but this has always been my favorite spot. We used to feed the fish from here, remember? And if we sat on the bench, I'd have no excuse to offer you my jacket."

"You're impossible." Sa-chan lowered herself onto the jacket while Sei sat down on the grass next to her.

"So," Sa-chan said, "what brings you here today? I mean, apart from scandalizing my mother with tales of Tokyo's sordid nightlife."

"Oh, I don't think she's all that scandalized."

"No," Sa-chan answered wistfully. "I'm afraid she's not."

"I'm here about Yumi," Sei said.

"Yumi-chan? What about her?"

"You know exactly what about her."

"So she ran to you." Sa-chan's brow furrowed. "I should have guessed as much."

"Yup," Sei answered, "I'm still the good cop, just like at Lillian."

"The good cop? Or just the bad influence?"

"Ouch!" Sei grimaced. "Come on, Sa-chan, you know you secretly worship me."

"Very secretly indeed."

"Why'd you send her away?"

"I didn't know what else to say to her. I told her what I wanted, she told me what she wanted, and there was no way to reconcile the two."

"Look. I know you don't want to let your family down. I know that, and I respect it. You want the world to see that the Ogasawara name is safe with you. But is this really what your parents want for you—to sacrifice your own happiness for the clan?"

Sa-chan sighed. "Why does everyone keep insisting I'm sacrificing my happiness? Is it so inconceivable that, perhaps, I know what I'm doing? That I chose this path not just because my father wants it, but because I want it as well?"

"But you didn't choose it."

"No. No, you're right. I didn't choose it. But I chose to go along with it."

"And what about Yumi?"

"What _about_ Yumi?"

"She's in love with you."

"She's not in love with me, _Sei_." Sachiko fixed her with a cold stare. "She just has a crush, and if you hadn't encouraged her, she never would have said to me what she did the other day."

"Wait a minute. I never talked to her about all this before it happened."

"Did you need to? Seriously? All that flirting and petting and fondling at school? All the stories about you and your oh-so-romantic adventures? You really mean to tell me that Yumi-chan would have done this if it hadn't been for the example you set?"

"What example?" Sei fought hard to keep the frustration out of her voice. "The example of someone who's true to her feelings? Who won't let her parents tell her whom to love and how? Who isn't afraid to go out there and confess to the person she loves, even though she might get hurt?"

"Don't make it all sound so high and mighty. You know exactly what example I'm talking about."

"Oh, do spell it out for me."

"You want me to spell it out? Fine. You were a bad example to Yumi. You gave her the impression that it's alright to… to…"

"To love another woman?"

Sachiko paused, drawing a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself down. "An integral part of being at Lillian is to serve as a role model for the younger girls. And since Lillian is an all-girl school, we have to be especially careful to serve as the right kind of role model when it comes to relationships between girls!"

"You're not at Lillian anymore, Sa-chan. You're allowed to think for yourself now."

"You think that's what Lillian did? Not allow us to think for ourselves? Tell me, do you remember _Forest of Thorns_?"

"Of course I do."

"Why were you called to Mother Superior's office when that novel came out?"

"They thought I wrote it. It was about lesbian romance at Lillian, so they thought I must have written it. But I hadn't."

"So why did they think you had?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did they think you wrote that book?"

"Because… I guess because they knew about me and Shiori?"

"Exactly."

"Your point being?"

"They knew about you and Shiori. They knew that you liked girls. Everyone knew how you were around Yumi." Sachiko emitted a mirthless laugh. "And what, in your three years at Lillian, did they do to change your mind? To stop you from liking girls? To chastise you? To punish you?"

Sei didn't answer.

"Exactly," Sachiko said. "They did nothing. Because Lillian isn't a place that does the thinking for you. Lillian is a protected space, a quiet space that allows you to do your own thinking and to make up your own mind. It allowed you to make up yours, and it allowed me to make up mine."

Again, Sei said nothing.

"So answer one question for me," Sachiko pressed on. "If Lillian means so little to you, and the Lillian code of conduct was just a pile of oppressive dogma, why did you not only graduate from Lillian and go on to Lillian U—let's say all that just happened to you somehow—but why were you on the Yamayurikai? Why were you Rosa Gigantea? Why did you help to run the place? Did evil Lillian force you to do that as well?"

Still, Sei had no reply. Sachiko was firing on all cylinders now, and Sei didn't know of a force in the world that could stop her when she was like this.

"The problem is, you feel responsible," Sachiko said.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not the rebel you think you are. I know you, Sei. You have a deep sense of responsibility. And you feel responsible for Yumi talking to me. You _know_ she's got these ideas in her head because of you."

"That's bullshit."

"Maybe. But even if it is, at least you feel responsible for making things right. You fancy yourself the hero of the downtrodden, some kind of Robin Hood of love. But love isn't something you can take from the rich and give to the poor, Sei. And you know what else? Yumi knows exactly how you feel. She came to you because she knew you'd feel responsible, or guilty, or at least sympathetic. She knew you'd try to stand up for her—you've done it before. She played you."

"Not everyone is plotting all the time, Sa-chan." Sei raised an eyebrow. "Couldn't it be that she just needed someone to talk to?"

"Couldn't it be both?" Sachiko rose, picked up Sei's jacket, and patted it clean. "Either way, what I want to know is, why do you enjoy it so much when people use you?"

"You know what?" Sei jumped up, snatching the jacket from Sachiko's hands. "I give up. You were right. You _should_ marry Suguru."

A flicker of hurt passed over Sachiko's eyes, but she rallied quickly.

"Well, thank you for your permission."

"Just take me off the guest list. I don't think I have the stomach for it."

"Too bad, Sei-_sama_. You could have seen how adults behave."

"Screw you, princess."

"I may not be a princess. But you're no knight in shining armor."

They walked back to the mansion, silent and seething. As Sei waited in the opulent entrance hall for the valet to drive up her car, Sachiko took her leave. Sei kept pacing up and down, trying her best not to punch anything.

"You were arguing."

"Aunt Sayako!" Sei jumped. She turned to face the woman who'd descended the staircase behind her without Sei noticing. "You startled me."

"I could see you girls from the window. You were fighting."

"Um… I guess you got us there."

"Good."

"What do you mean?"

"This is how I know you're becoming real friends."

"I don't get it."

"If you don't care about someone, Sei-chan, you don't bother to fight with them. It's just a waste of energy."

"I don't know." Sei shrugged. "Maybe you're right."

"I am right. And don't forget what I told you earlier."

"I'm sorry, what exactly?"

"I leave my daughter in your capable hands, Sei-chan. She needs a friend like you. Please remember that."


	5. Chapter 5: Yoko

**A/N:** Welcome to chapter 5 and thanks for still being on board! Please give a warm welcome to our 4th POV character...

* * *

**Chapter 5: Yoko**

* * *

Mizuno Yoko lifted her arms, allowing the security guard to glide the metal detector up and down her body. The access routes to the temple had been cordoned off, and one could only enter the grounds after presenting a valid invitation, offering proof of identity, and submitting oneself to a thorough search. All of this was meant to protect the wedding guests, Japan's rich and powerful, who had gathered here today to witness the old wolf Toru finally hand over the reins of his empire to his designated successor, Kashiwagi Suguru—who would, on this day, adopt the illustrious name of the Ogasawara clan.

_The person who would bequeath him this name was inconsequential to Toru, Suguru, and the assembled luminaries. But to Yoko, she was one of the dearest people alive—Ogasawara Sachiko, Toru's only child and Yoko's former petite soeur at Lillian Academy. Yoko would have loved to help out with Sa-chan's wedding. In an American movie, she would have been the maid of honor, helping Sa-chan pick out everything from venue to dress, getting her drunk at an epic bachelorette party, and making sure every instant of her big day was filled with joy. It had been Yoko, after all, who'd spent much of her time at Lillian coaxing Sa-chan out of her shell, prodding the icy heiress to loosen up and live a little, even getting her to drop some especially useless private tutors and spend more time around her friends. But this wasn't an American movie. It was a feudal Japanese wedding, everything—including the husband—had been decreed by committee, and only those on the formal protocol list would enter the temple itself. Sa-chan's closest friends, including Yoko, wouldn't even be able to see her say yes._

Yoko swallowed down the bitter taste in her mouth and focused on the ancient, eroded steps in front of her. She had to climb them all the way up the hill to reach the temple, she had to do it in her heels, and she had to look completely effortless in the process. She'd spent a lot of money on her outfit, and she'd practiced wearing the black shoes and skin-tight business suit night after night until she felt fully at ease moving around in them. Strictly speaking, Yoko had neither the time nor the money for such extravagance—she was a recent law school graduate with loans to pay and job applications to write—but there were a lot of important people here, a lot of executives, and Yoko's career goal was to practice law at a major Japanese corporation. If she wanted these people to notice her, she needed to look the part.

_But it wasn't just about impressing corporate bigwigs. Equally important to Yoko was her standing among the former Yamayurikai members, many of whom she hadn't seen since her graduation. Yoko had been the undisputed leader of the Yamayurikai, and she knew that most other girls on the council had an awed respect for her. She had worked hard to earn that respect, especially at Lillian, which was full of people born with assets Yoko knew she lacked. She hailed from a humble, middle-class family that couldn't even afford her law school, so she'd cultivated a keen intellect, ruthless discipline, and an iron will to force open the doors that normally would have been shut to her. She had no easy charm or talent for making friends, so she'd developed other traits to rally people around her: leadership, reliability, and a care for others' affairs that could border on the meddlesome. And she was physically unremarkable, so she'd perfected the arts of exercise, dieting, grooming, make-up, and attire to leave a favorable impression._

_There was only one person who saw right through Yoko's façade and into her fearful heart. To her eternal dismay, this was the one person she'd always been most eager to impress: her classmate and fellow Yamayurikai member Sato Sei. Yoko had been there through all of Sei's ups and downs at Lillian Academy: the beginnings, when Sei was so painfully isolated it seemed she'd freeze the hand off anyone who touched her; the Shiori debacle, after which Yoko had picked up a heartbroken Sei from the train station where she'd been awaiting her lover for who knew how many hours; and Sei's post-Shiori transformation into a flirtatious, outgoing, happy-go-lucky rake. Unlike Yoko, Sei had never cared about classes or grades. Unlike Yoko, Sei hadn't made the slightest effort to come to terms with life after Lillian. Unlike Yoko, Sei had always worn her hopes and fears on her sleeve. Was that why she admired Sei? Yoko wondered. Was it because whatever Sei was, she herself could never be? She had an irrationally strong desire for Sei to be her friend, and she'd tried so hard throughout and since Lillian to remain close to her, but Yoko's natural stiffness, coupled with Sei's instinctive bullshit detector, had always kept them at arm's length from each other._

_Since moving to Osaka for her studies, Yoko hadn't been able to meet up with her fellow Lillian alumnae more than twice a year, and it had been around ten months since she'd last seen Sei. She'd debated calling the former Rosa Gigantea and arranging to go to the wedding together, but she'd gotten cold feet, afraid of seeming to care too much. Sei called Yoko a meddler and constantly poked fun at her attempts to stay involved with the lives of those around her. And while that was fair enough, and perhaps just showed that Sei was truly a friend, Yoko couldn't be sure, and she had too much pride to reach out to Sei as if she needed Sei more than the other way around. Of course, Yoko had come here today to attend Sa-chan's wedding, but since the formal proceedings wouldn't even give her a chance to talk to her petite soeur, it was Sei that she was most keen to see again._

At the top of the steps, Yoko took a moment to survey the crowds that had gathered around the shrine. Every major Japanese business family had sent representatives, and she noticed how more than one set of eyes turned to her as she made her way to the temple. Most of these gawkers were elderly men in high positions, on the lookout, Yoko suspected, for their next mistress. Somehow, they seemed to smell that Yoko was an eligible candidate, that she didn't truly belong in their midst, whether it was because she'd come alone or because they didn't recognize her from their regular social functions and clubs, which were, for the time being, too expensive for Yoko to access. She smiled politely at everyone who stared as she passed by, trying to strike just the right balance between approachable and professional. Mistress, after all, wasn't the position she'd worked so hard to attain.

To the right of the temple entrance, Yoko spotted the inner circle of the Ogasawara clan. In the midst of a small group of siblings and cousins stood Sa-chan's parents. Sayako-sama, wearing an exquisite but subdued kimono, was silent and composed as always. Yoko had never known quite what to make of the woman. To all appearances, she seemed like a well-bred but average upper-class wife whom her husband dragged out for family events and stowed away at home the rest of the time. But on the few occasions that Yoko had visited the Ogasawara Mansion, she had noticed something about the woman's eyes, about the way she looked at Sa-chan and her friends, that made Yoko feel penetrated right to her core.

Standing next to Sayako-sama was her husband, Ogasawara Toru. All the world knew how sick he was, and he had to be in sizeable pain at this very moment. As far as Yoko knew, he should have been confined to a hospital bed. But no one told the patriarch of the Ogasawara clan what to do or where to be. He stood perfectly straight in his conservative, double-breasted suit, and the only thing suggesting any physical discomfort on his part was the unadorned, dark wooden cane on which he leaned for support. His face, which looked much older than his sixty years, was an ashen but expressionless mask, unreadable, Yoko felt sure, even to those closest to him—except perhaps the eerily piercing eyes of Sayako-sama. It was this mixture of indomitable will and inscrutable purpose that had enabled Toru to rule the family business for more than three decades in spite of challenges that would have destroyed a lesser man, including his sickness and his notorious inability to produce male offspring.

A little off to the side, Yoko recognized her former Lillian schoolmates. They were standing at a respectful distance to the temple, under the shade of some gingko trees. The Foetida family was represented by Hasekura Rei, the Olympic kendo fighter, and Shimazu Yoshino, Rei-chan's younger cousin and petite soeur, who would soon receive her degree in psychology from Tokyo University. The Gigantea family had fielded two attendees as well, Todo Shimako and her petite soeur Nijo Noriko. The two were an odd pair: Shimako-chan, the heiress of an old family that ran one of the most ancient shrines around Tokyo, was a closeted—or not-so-closeted—Catholic. Noriko-chan, in contrast, was one of the few strictly Buddhist girls to attend Lillian Academy. But despite their difference in faith, the two girls were inseparable. Finally, Yoko spotted Matsudaira Toko, who had been Rosa Chinensis three years after herself. She was a distant cousin of Sa-chan's, which meant she stood with the other family members, but Yoko could see the fiery girl cast eager glances at the other Roses, clearly frustrated she couldn't be with them.

Yoko looked around some more but couldn't make out any further Lillian alumnae in the crowd. Torii Eriko's absence was to be expected. Rei-chan's onee-sama, who had been Rosa Foetida while Yoko was Rosa Chinensis, had lived in a world of her own even back at Lillian. Yoko was sure that Sa-chan had sent her a courtesy invitation and equally sure that Eriko had simply ignored it. Sei wasn't there either, but Yoko was sure she'd still make it. She'd show up at the last minute, Yoko would glare at her disapprovingly, Sei would wink at Yoko and give her a crooked smile, and as always, Yoko would forgive and forget all. But where was Fukuzawa Yumi, Sa-chan's petite soeur and biggest fan? It was inconceivable that she should miss even a second of her beloved onee-sama's wedding.

When the other Lillian girls noticed Yoko walking up to them, they stopped talking among each other, turned to face her, and straightened their poses. Yoko was pleased to see that her effect on the girls hadn't changed, but she was surprised to find herself a little saddened by their formal deference: they may have regarded Yoko as their leader, but this also meant they didn't truly see her as their friend.

"Yoko-sama. How have you been?" The question came from Hasekura Rei, the oldest in the group and therefore probably the one least intimidated by Yoko.

"Thank you, Rei-chan, I've been fine. Girls, how about you?"

"We're fine, Yoko-sama, thank you," the girls answered almost in unison.

"Where is Yumi-chan?"

An awkward silence passed between the former Yamayurikai members as furtive glances were exchanged. At last, it was Shimazu Yoshino who spoke up. Yoko knew she was a good friend of Yumi's, and also not one to mince words.

"Yumi and Sachiko-sama aren't talking."

"What? Why?"

"Well, normally I'd say that was their business, but since you're the one asking, and you also seem to be the only one who doesn't know, I'll tell you: Yumi told Sachiko-sama she loved her, and Sachiko-sama told her to get lost."

"She loved her? Get lost?" Yoko was stunned. "That doesn't sound like the Yumi I know—or like Sachiko, for that matter."

Yoshino shrugged. "Maybe you don't know them as well as you think."

"Yoshino!" Rei hissed.

"What?" Yoshino shot her older cousin a defiant stare. "Two years out of Lillian and we still have to tiptoe around our onee-samas?"

Yoko took a better look at Yoshino. Clearly, some things _had_ changed since Lillian.

"No, you don't, Yoshino-chan," she said. "But just for your information, common courtesy is considered a grace even outside the gates of Lillian."

A slight blush spread over Yoshino's cheeks, but she didn't apologize.

"They're coming." The calm voice belonged to Todo Shimako, Sei's former petite soeur.

Yoko looked up. From behind the shrine, through a throng of softly applauding guests, stepped the soon-to-be-married couple, Ogasawara Sachiko and Kashiwagi Suguru. Sa-chan was dressed in a gorgeous white kimono with red lining. Her normally expressive face had been immobilized by a heavy coat of bridal make-up, and her hair, atypically for Sa-chan, was constrained in an elaborate bun. Next to her walked a maid, holding a white parasol over Sa-chan's head. Suguru was also in traditional clothes, with his usually floppy hair tamed by a generous helping of gel. They both looked stiff and ill at ease, neither of them smiling as they approached the open temple doors with measured steps. To Yoko, they looked like two children only playing at getting married, with all the exaggerated solemnity that children often display when they imitate adult rituals they don't fully comprehend.

As the couple neared the Lillian group, Yoko started applauding. She wanted so badly to offer her petite soeur some kind of reassurance, some sign that she was there for her and things would be alright, but all she found herself capable of was clap a little more loudly than the other guests. But then, unexpectedly, the other Roses followed her lead, and Sa-chan, hearing the sound, turned around to face the group. For a second, she came eye to eye with Yoko. In that instant, she seemed so lost and alone, no grand heiress worth billions of Yen, but just a little girl who was about to give up the world she knew for the sake of a harsh and uncertain future. Yoko knew this look was just for her. Gathering all her strength and determination, she nodded at Sa-chan with the bravest expression she could muster. Then, the instant had passed, Sa-chan had entered the temple, and Yoko was in tears.

"Yoko-sama." Shimako was handing her a tissue.

"Thank you, Shimako-chan." Yoko took the embroidered piece of cloth and dabbed cautiously at her eyes, careful not to smudge her make-up. "Have you heard from your onee-sama? Where is she?"

"Sadly, I haven't talked to Sei-sama in a while, Yoko-sama." Shimako's face betrayed no emotion. "I simply assumed she was running late as usual."

"So did I," Yoko said, "but now she's missed their entrance. And if she doesn't get here soon, she'll miss them coming out as well. I guess I'll have to give her a call." She opened her clutch and fished out her cellphone, scrolling down to Sei's name with unconscious habit. She pressed dial and started counting the rings.

"You wanted me…"

"Sei! Where are you?"

"…well, too bad," the recording spoke over her. "Guess you'll have to settle for my canned voice. To be honest, though, I don't really check my messages, so give it another shot some time!"

Yoko almost cursed as she ended the call. It wasn't the first time that Sei's stupid, chatty answerphone message had tripped her up.

"Her mobile's turned off," she said to no one in particular.

"Do you think that maybe they're together?" Noriko asked somewhat timidly.

"Together? With whom?" Yoko asked.

Another awkward exchange of glances. Yoko decided she'd been out of the loop way too long. Yes, her studies and career were important. But these people were family. And Yoko seemed to have no idea what was going on with them anymore.

"With Yumi—who else!" Yoshino exclaimed. "Geez, Yoko-sama, buy a clue!"

"Wait, you think that Yumi-chan—and Sei…" Yoko was too shocked to acknowledge the younger girl's rudeness.

"We don't know that," Rei said firmly, throwing an admonishing look at Yoshino. "In fact, we don't know anything for sure because we haven't talked to them."

"I've talked to Yumi," Yoshino objected.

"To _them_," Rei said curtly. "I said we haven't talked to _them_."

"Let me be clear about this," Yoko said. "You think that something may be going on between Yumi-chan and Sei?"

"Well, it would make sense," Yoshino replied. "Yumi and Sei-sama have always been close, Yumi was painfully rejected by Sachiko-sama, and Sei-sama has a savior complex."

"Is that the kind of psychology they teach you at Tokyo U?"

"Nope." Yoshino shrugged. "Just my intuition."

"They're coming out. It's done." Once again, it was Shimako's gentle voice that returned them to the present.

As the newly married couple emerged from the temple, the previously subdued applause swelled to a roar. But Yoko didn't feel like clapping anymore. She knew they weren't cheering for her petite soeur, but for the freshly minted director of the Ogasawara Business Group. Suguru seemed even more uncomfortable than before, as if it was starting to dawn on him that playtime was over, over forever, and that the fate of a multi-billion-yen-company now rested on his shoulders. But Sa-chan didn't look awkward anymore. She looked resigned, and it broke Yoko's heart. As she passed by her former schoolmates, she didn't even raise her head.

Sa-chan and Suguru disappeared down the steps, followed by the invitees as they started filing out of the temple grounds. There would be a limousine waiting for the couple at the base of the hill; in the evening, they would host a formal banquet, strictly for the big brass. The Lillian girls weren't invited, but Yoko didn't mind; she knew it would be an entirely ceremonial affair, and she could imagine how hard it had to have been for Sa-chan to even get them on the guest list for the wedding. All the more inexcusable, Yoko thought, for Yumi-chan and Sei not to show up. And that those two might be… Yoko could hardly wrap her head around it. She needed to get a hold of Sei.


	6. Chapter 6: Sei

**A/N:** Welcome back as we near the conclusion to "Business or Pleasure!" Thanks for sticking around as things begin to heat up around here.

**Rating:** This chapter is hardcore, so please be warned. Explicit depictions of sexual intimacy to follow. As I said in the A/N to chapter 1, I think these are essential to plot and character development, but if you disagree after reading, please do let me know how you would've handled these passages yourself. I'd love to hear your take on how to write sex in the service of character!

* * *

**Chapter 6: Sei**

* * *

"You're real pretty, you know?"

Sei acknowledged the compliment with a casual smile before handing the woman her cocktail and striding down the bar to serve the other customers. Since starting at the Roxy Music some months ago, she'd gotten used to this kind of attention from semi-inebriated women in their mid- to late thirties, dressed in smart business suits, climbing up the career ladder, spending on an expense account, single or locked in marriages of convenience, and desperately unhappy.

_At first, she'd enjoyed the flirting. Having spent her entire adolescence surrounded by the yearning looks of girls who would never follow through on their childish fantasies, who would spend years pining for her but run away in an instant if she were to ever approach them, she'd appreciated the blunt directness with which the women across the counter propositioned her. They'd been her teachers in lust, if not in love. They'd showered her in compliments and tips, waited patiently for her shift to end, and whisked her off to expensive hotel suites. She'd had fun with them, never forgetting that their lust was no more real than schoolgirls' love, and that they probably wouldn't want to look her in the face the morning after. To avoid such awkwardness, she'd made a habit of leaving—on good terms—after the deed, taking a cab home, and waking up in her own, well-ordered apartment, away from stilted conversations and ready to start the new day with a clean slate._

_Sometimes, the women came again, and a few of them were regulars at the bar, but Sei's interest in them usually waned after two or three encounters. When that happened, many of them revealed another, uglier side of themselves. With nothing to offer but a comfy hotel bed and unwilling to make the slightest room in their lives for Sei, they nevertheless started taking for granted what she had only extended to them as a kindness. One woman had offered her money when she refused to continue their liaison. Another had threatened to accuse her of taking money. And so, Sei had realized she needed to stop. Now she just smiled at the women who chatted her up, flirted with them sometimes, but always kept the red line of the counter between them and herself._

_Of course, none of these people knew who Sei was, that she didn't need the money or the job, that she was friends with the Roxy Music's owners, and that she was only here to… to do what? Immerse in the gay community? Get laid? Make some money that didn't belong to her parents? Plant the seeds of a future scandal? There was no easy answer to that question. Sei had never been one to plan her moves in advance, playing life like a game of chess with the enemy king always in sight. No, she trusted her gut, letting her instinct tell her whether to turn left or right, go to school today or not, risk her future and reputation on the off chance that a prospective nun might want to elope with her. She smiled at the memory. Well, no one's instincts were perfect. At least hers were never boring. One day, hindsight would tell her what her experiences had been for. Right now, the most important thing was not to think but to live._

_There was only one thing that Sei didn't mess around with: her writing. She didn't care for the burden of expectation, so no one knew just how serious she was about it, but she wrote without fail every day. She took her time in the mornings, sleeping in late to recover from last night's work and starting the day with some good tea and a hearty breakfast. Then she packed her laptop, pen and paper, her music, and some other essentials and hopped on the subway. She never knew where she'd get off. Some days it was Lillian U. Other days it was some town in the suburbs she'd never heard of before. She'd stroll around the neighborhood, let her surroundings saturate her senses, and then find a place to sit—a café, a park, an unused rooftop—where she could get out her computer and work in peace. When she had money, she got something to eat late in the afternoon. When she was broke, she packed a sandwich. On a good day, she got up to four hours of writing done this way. Then she went back home, dolled herself up for the night, and headed out to the bar again._

_She had no idea how long she'd keep up this routine—she knew she wouldn't work at the bar forever. But for now, she liked the structure this life provided, and she liked the luxury of meeting new people from a safe distance, of being the one to decide how close they could get. She was well aware that one day, this illusion of control would be shattered, this never-ending now would vanish, and something—or someone—would drag her out of the spectator seat and onto the stage of her own life again. For all she knew, it could happen this very night, the night of Sachiko's wedding, which Sei had refused to attend, going so far as to turn off her phone to prevent Yoko or some other meddler from testing her resolve. But events like this—weddings, funerals—were seismic in nature, and you never knew when or where an aftershock would trip you up._

As it happened, Sei's aftershock arrived a mere few hours later. When it entered the bar in the form of a wide-eyed, scared young woman, the crowd was already thinning out and Sei was in power save mode, her thoughts slow and her movements sluggish, ready to head back home and plop into bed. The woman, Sei felt quite certain, was a gay bar virgin. Her make-up was over the top, her clothes just a little too pretty, and the late hour at which she'd arrived probably meant it had taken her long to gather her resolve. Sei could just picture her sitting at home for hours, debating whether to take the plunge or not. Or maybe Sei was wrong and she'd been out and about all night, searching for the right bar, the one where she'd find Sei—Sei had mentioned her job to the woman, but hadn't told her the details. In any case, she was here now, and Sei could immediately feel that this was a version of Fukuzawa Yumi she'd never encountered before.

She had to have noticed Sei—she always noticed Sei—but for some reason, most likely embarrassment, she seemed to pretend otherwise. After taking a look around the bar, she made a beeline for the back wall and sat down at an empty table. At this point, the only people left in the place were the desperate few who still hadn't managed to pick up or get picked up by someone they fancied. Sei knew they would be all over Yumi in an instant. It was only a question of who'd be the first to work up the nerve to approach her. And there she came already, the hopeful suitor—it was the same woman who'd tried to chat up Sei a few minutes ago. Two drinks in hand, she sauntered over to Yumi's table and sat down without so much as asking for permission.

To Sei's surprise, Yumi didn't send her away. The two started chatting, with Sei keeping an eye on them as she served the remaining customers and cleaned up behind the counter. The woman kept ordering drinks which Yumi proceeded to put away with considerable speed. Sei started getting that sinking feeling in her stomach. She'd never seen Yumi drink before and couldn't imagine the girl had much experience with alcohol. Clearly, she was trying to get herself drunk enough to do something stupid, but at the rate at which she was going, she'd drink herself into a stupor first. Soon enough, the alcohol started working its magic, and Yumi turned gaily flirtatious. She laughed out loud at the woman's jokes, and Sei watched one of the woman's hands disappear beneath the table. After less than half an hour, with the bar nearly deserted now, the two got up to leave. Yumi staggered forward, unable to keep her balance, and the woman put an arm around her waist to steady her.

As the two haltingly made their way to the exit, Sei let her instincts take over. Emerging from behind the counter, she quickly circled around the room so she'd reach the door at the same time as them, but from a different direction. With just a few steps left between them, she called out Yumi's name in mock surprise. The younger girl stopped in her tracks, almost throwing her companion off balance, and gaped at Sei. Her face turned beet red. Before anyone could gather their wits, Sei closed the remaining distance and pulled Yumi into a tight embrace.

"Yumi-chan!" She held Yumi slightly away from herself without letting go of the girl's shoulders. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"I'm sorry, you must be mistaken," said the woman, standing a little off to Yumi's side. "Her name is actually Mariko."

"Mariko?" Sei laughed. "Does she seem like a Mariko to you? Those wide eyes? That sheepish look? No, she's a Yumi-chan alright—_my_ Yumi-chan!" She emitted a feline growl, pulling the nonplussed Yumi back into her arms.

"Is that true?" the woman asked Yumi, a sour look on her face. "You didn't give me your real name?"

"I… I…" Yumi, still in Sei's embrace, turned her head to look at the woman, but was clearly too embarrassed to produce a coherent answer.

"Well, that's disappointing," the woman went on. "I thought you were a nice person."

"Not fair!" Sei objected lightheartedly, taking Yumi by the hand. "Did _you_ tell her how many women you tried to pick up here tonight—including me, if memory serves?"

"This is stupid. I'm going home." The woman gave Yumi a questioning look. "Still want to come?"

"I'm… I…"

"I get it," The woman said. "Well, enjoy each other's company." She flicked them a wave goodbye and turned to the door.

"Thank you for your custom!" Sei called after her. "And get home safe!"

They stood silently, hand in hand, until the door closed behind the woman.

"S… Sei-sama," Yumi stammered, "I'm so sorry…"

"Don't call me that." Sei turned to Yumi with a grin. "And why are you sorry? _I'm_ the one who cockblocked _you_."

Yumi turned an even brighter shade of red.

"Tell you what," Sei went on, "I'll be out of here in another ten minutes. Why don't you sit at the bar—where I can keep an eye on you—and wait until I'm done? I'll accompany you home."

"Uh… okay."

Sei could tell that Yumi wasn't thrilled by the prospect, but the younger girl didn't object as Sei led her to a barstool. Quickly finishing up behind the counter, Sei went to get her coat and bag before grabbing Yumi by the hand again. Together, they stepped out of the bar and into the fresh night air. Neither of them said anything as Sei walked Yumi through empty streets to a station from which the girl could catch a train home. They made their way down to the platform, found a bench, and sat down—it was the middle of the night, and the next train wouldn't arrive for almost half an hour. A few minutes passed quietly, in agonizing slow motion, as Sei listened to the sound of the slightest nocturnal breeze, trying not to think too much, neither of the girl whom she'd awaited at just such a station years ago, nor of the girl sitting next to her right now. In the end, it was Yumi who broke the silence.

"Sei…"

"M-hm?"

"Please don't take me home."

And here we go, Sei thought.

"Why not?"

"I… I don't want my parents to see me in this state."

"What's wrong with your state?"

Yumi didn't reply, keeping her eyes on the platform.

"You're an adult, you know that, right? You can be in whatever state you like."

"It's not that simple. I live with them. In their home."

"They told you that?"

"No, they'd never say something like that. It's me. I guess I don't want to shatter the image they have of me."

"So what's the plan?"

Again, Yumi didn't reply. She just looked up at Sei with those huge, doe-like eyes. They sat like that for a moment, just staring into each other's eyes, neither of them saying a word. At long last, Sei let out a sigh.

"Fine. Crash at my place tonight. But you're no more safe with me than with those people at the bar, you know?"

"You're the _best_!" Yumi gave Sei's arm a violent hug.

Despite herself, Sei laughed as she got up again, pulling Yumi with her. She ruffled the girl's hair.

"You could've said something earlier, you know? Saved us the trip to the station?"

"But I liked sitting here with you."

Caught between the too-catty "maybe _I'm_ the one who's not safe with you" and the too-sappy "I liked sitting with you too," Sei ended up saying nothing at all. But as they retraced their steps, heading to Sei's station this time, she kept hold of Yumi's hand. A moment later, Yumi shifted her hand in Sei's grip as if to let go, and Sei felt a stinging emotion halfway between resentment and guilt. But instead of pulling away, Yumi just spread her fingers, entwining them with Sei's. The older girl's heart skipped the tiniest beat. She could sense what was starting to happen here, and there appeared an abstract, ever-so-distant thought in her head that maybe _she_ should pull away, but even as she thought it, she knew she wouldn't do it. Not because this was meant to be—Shiori had cured her of such notions. Nor because it was a particularly good idea—probably, it was a terrible one. But Sei had never been one to reject the magic that life sent her way for fear it might turn into disaster, and she wouldn't start tonight.

"Thank you," Yumi said quietly.

"For what?"

"For not letting me go with that woman."

"I don't know." Sei shrugged. "You were making a choice. And I took that choice away from you."

"You were protecting me," Yumi objected.

"From what? Yourself? Your own decisions? That's not what I'm about."

"Why _did_ you stop me, then?"

Sei shrugged again. "Maybe I was just being selfish."

This time, it was Yumi who laughed. "Where does it come from, I wonder?" she mused, absently gazing up at the night sky.

"Where does _what_ come from?"

"This annoying habit of yours. Whenever you do something nice, you second-guess your own motives. Isn't it possible you just wanted to be… nice?"

"I guess I just don't think of myself as a very nice person."

"And I guess I think you're wrong." Yumi squeezed Sei's hand a little tighter.

"You're not really drunk anymore, are you?" Sei smiled at Yumi. "I should send you home."

"You could try."

"So that's how it is, eh? I don't get a say in the matter anymore?"

"No, you don't." Yumi giggled.

"So what happens now?"

"You finally return my kiss."

Yumi stopped in the middle of the road, right under a street lamp, and looked up at Sei with those magnificent eyes of hers. They held a promise Sei might have resisted, but a hope she couldn't bear to destroy. The younger girl tiptoed up while Sei leaned down to meet her halfway. She wanted to kiss Yumi tenderly, but as soon as their lips met, she felt Yumi's hands on her cheeks, pulling her into a fiery, clumsy, passionate, painful, seemingly endless kiss. Yumi was kissing her for dear life, now parting her lips, now closing them, now biting Sei's lips, now caressing them with her tongue, as if she wanted to squeeze all the kisses she'd never had into this single one. Is this kiss really mine? Sei wondered. Or is it Sachiko's? Would Yumi have dared to kiss Sachiko this way? Or was this red-hot revenge for all the shy, girly kisses she'd never been allowed to plant on her onee-sama's lips?

"Sei?" Yumi whispered.

"M-hm?"

"What's going on?"

"Nothing. I just…" _Fuck it_, Sei thought. Who knew why any of us did the things we did? Whose motives were ever pure? In the end, the only thing that mattered was the doing itself. So let's do this properly, she told herself as she leaned back in. She took Yumi's face between her hands and started placing little kisses on her lips, one after the other, pulling away again and again. Yumi looked up at her with pleading eyes, trying to suck Sei back in, but Sei retreated each time, shushing the younger girl into submission. Finally, when Yumi's eyes started to moisten with frustration, Sei pressed her lips against Yumi's in a forceful kiss, breathing through her nose as she massaged Yumi's lips with her own. Yumi responded with a deep sigh of relief. Sei inched forward with her tongue, first parting Yumi's lips and then, slowly, thrust by thrust, her teeth. By this point, Yumi had fully abandoned herself to Sei. Closing her eyes and digging her fingernails into the sleeves of Sei's coat, she let the older girl enter her. Slowly, she seemed to melt away in Sei's arms. When her grip on Sei's coat started to slacken, Sei broke their embrace. Let's see if this takes your mind off her, she thought as Yumi, bright red, struggled to catch her breath.

Yumi looked up at Sei with a smile that betrayed a mixture of awe, release, and expectation. She seemed unsure of what to do next. Then, she took Sei's hand back in hers, snuck her other arm around Sei's waist, and snuggled up to her.

"Can we go home now?" she whispered.

They had nearly reached the station, and Sei's train, completely empty, arrived just a few minutes later. They got on and sat down side by side, but as soon as the train left the platform, Yumi turned to Sei with an impish look, lifting her leg and sliding her body around until she came to rest on the older girl's lap, her face mere inches from Sei's. She put her arms around Sei's neck and started gently kissing her.

"Someone could get on, you know?" Sei said.

"Then it's their lucky night," Yumi replied as she nibbled at Sei's lips.

"And what if it's your parents?"

"Shut up."

And so Sei shut up. She embraced Yumi, trying her best to relax while the girl explored her features as if unwrapping a brand-new toy. Yumi slid her fingers through Sei's hair, sometimes stroking it, sometimes playfully tugging at it. Her lips wandered over Sei's neck, chin, cheeks, nose, forehead, finding ever new places to kiss, bite, and tickle. Her hands dove in under Sei's coat, carressing the older girl's sides and back without quite daring to stray into more adventurous territory. Sei could sense that Yumi was slowly starting to enjoy herself, easing into this new, unfamiliar game she was playing.

_But Sei still couldn't give in. She felt self-conscious letting Yumi do this to her. Until now, she'd always been the one to intrude on Yumi's body, pestering her in the most outrageous ways to elicit her delightful squeals or the consternated looks of Sachiko, Yoko, and the others. But she'd only been able to act like that because it hadn't occurred to her that something might actually happen between them. The first time she'd ever thought of Yumi that way had been mere weeks before her graduation, when the younger girl had kissed her in that empty classroom, taking the initiative, just like now, taking Sei by surprise. And now Sei felt paralyzed, just like then, not knowing what she could let herself do, how far she could let herself go._

_The Lillian playbook was out of the window—Yumi was no longer a pet to be teased and manhandled at will. But she couldn't just be a one-night stand either. She was a friend, a protégé, practically a sister, and Sei couldn't think of her in disposable terms. Least of all now: judging from the whole Sachiko debacle and Yumi's apparently newfound fondness for random hookups, the girl seemed on the verge of some kind of breakdown. Sei had barged into this situation in true Sato Sei fashion, rushing in where angels feared to tread, and now she'd have to take responsibility. Of course, this didn't mean that Yumi wanted anything more than a fling, a little distraction, and if things turned out that way, Sei would be a good sport about it. But even though she wouldn't let Yumi see it, deep down inside, she was aware it would hurt to be treated that way. And because the only way Sei knew how to treat others was how she wanted to be treated herself, she needed to make sure that Yumi didn't end up getting hurt._

_She smiled. Hadn't she been appalled when Sa-chan had accused her of being a responsible person? And wasn't it she herself who lamented, on an almost daily basis, all the guilt-ridden, Catholic introspection Lillian had drilled into her? Shouldn't she just focus on this little bundle of joy squirming in her lap, showering her body with affection and care, doing her damnedest to coax some physical reaction out of her? It was nice to have someone be so loving with her, someone who she knew actually cared about her, someone whom she'd known and trusted for years._

"We're here." Lost in thought and Yumi's kisses, Sei had nearly missed their stop. She grabbed Yumi by the butt and got up with the girl still in her lap. Yumi gave out a surprised little yelp and stiffened her grip around Sei's neck. Once they were on the platform, Sei let the girl down, took her by the hand, and led her onto the deserted streets of the high-rise neighborhood in which Sei's parents had rented her a furnished apartment after she'd turned eighteen—an apartment none of her Lillian friends had ever seen. The gray, nondescript building was ten minutes from the station. When they arrived in front of it, Sei came to an abrupt stop.

"This is me," she said. "Last chance. Sure you want to come up?"

"That's a stupid question."

Here goes nothing, Sei thought as she held her cellphone to the sensor next to the intercom. The door unlocked with a quiet click. They walked through the sterile, hotel-like lobby, past the rows of symmetrically arranged mailboxes, and stopped in front of the polished metal elevator doors. Sei could hardly bear to look at Yumi. In a few minutes, the cute little monster would be in her apartment. And then, all bets were off.

The elevator arrived with a delicate ring. They stepped in the mirrored cabin, and for the first time, under the harsh LED light, Sei caught a glimpse of them together. It had been a long night of work and an even longer one of fussing over Yumi, and Sei looked as tired as she felt: her posture was slumped, her bag drooped lazily off her shoulder, and her hair was disheveled from Yumi's tender attentions. Yumi herself didn't fare that much better: she looked livelier than Sei, but the rookie make-up she'd applied a little too generously had turned quite flaky after all the night's action. They definitely didn't look like two Lillian girls coming home late after an evening of Yamayurikai business. They looked like two women with lives, hopes, and worries; two young women who'd had a long, harrowing day and, despite their exhaustion, were happy to have someone to come home with, someone special in whose arms they could close the book on yesterday and dream of a better tomorrow.

They arrived on the twenty-third floor, and Sei led the way down the narrow, maze-like hallways. When they reached her apartment, she whipped out her smartphone again. The door clicked open. But even now, Sei hesitated. She cast a cautious glance at Yumi. The younger girl met her gaze with a kind but determined expression.

"I know you're worried, Sei," Yumi said softly. "But please don't be. I'm here because I want to be, not because you tricked me somehow. I'm not here to hurt you or cause you any trouble. And I'm not here because I want you to replace someone else. I like you, Sei. I like you a lot. And I admire-"

Before Yumi could finish her sentence, Sei had drawn her into a passionate kiss, hoisted her onto her lap again, and carried her over the threshold. She kicked the door shut behind them and leaned Yumi against the wall. The girl was panting now, frantically grinding her crotch against Sei's abdomen, and Sei could feel herself getting wet. She let Yumi down for a moment and brushed the girl's coat off her shoulders while removing her own shoes with her feet. She knelt down, untying Yumi's shoes while the girl took off Sei's bag and coat. Then she lifted Yumi up again and, kissing her furiously, carried her straight through into the bedroom without so much as switching on a light. All concern was a thing of the past now, replaced by an exhilaration Sei couldn't have expressed in words. How many nights had she woken up in this empty, soulless apartment, woken up alone with no one by her side, paced in and out of the rooms, looked behind curtains and doors, half asleep, half dreaming, half certain there had to be someone hiding in there somewhere, someone with whom she could share the sense of absurd, indescribable grief that overcame her on nights like these? She didn't know if it was Yumi whom she'd looked for all those nights, but tonight, at least for one night, she would look no more.

She knelt on the bed and lowered Yumi down onto it, sinking with her, covering the girl's body with her own. Yumi gleamed at her in the dim light that filtered in through the bedroom windows. She grabbed Sei by the wrists and forced her sideways, onto the mattress, making her lie down and straddling her lap. Grinding Sei with her hips, she fumbled out of her blazer and blouse to reveal a lace, pastel pink bra that covered her small breasts in tiny flowers. She looked at Sei like a hungry child as she grabbed the older girl's denim shirt and started unbuttoning it.

"You're going to tear it apart," Sei whispered.

"You should've thought of that before you let me in."

Seconds later, Sei's shirt was open. But as she lay under Yumi with nothing but her black bra to conceal her chest, it was Yumi's turn to hesitate. She looked down at Sei as if asking for permission. Smiling, Sei eased herself up by the elbows, took off her shirt, and unhooked her bra with one hand, never once taking her eyes off Yumi's. She tossed the bra aside and let herself fall backwards again. For an instant, Yumi seemed stunned, looking at Sei, her face, her tummy, her shoulders, her breasts, as if she couldn't believe this was really happening. But then, the hungry child was back. Entwining her hands with Sei's, she lowered her head to the older girl's breasts. She began by kissing them, then gently licking them, and when she finally started sucking on them, Sei felt a powerful current jolt through her body. She wanted to grab Yumi's hair, but the younger girl held her down by the hands as she sucked on her breasts more fiercely. She was hurting Sei now, but Sei let it happen—she cared more about the force of the feeling than if it was pleasure or pain.

When Yumi let up a little, Sei raised her hips underneath the girl, lifting Yumi until she was up on her knees, still sucking Sei's breasts but with her cute little butt in the air. Sei placed a knee between Yumi's legs and pressed it against her groin. Catching on right away, Yumi started grinding against Sei's leg, sucking more softly now. After a while, she let go of Sei's hands, finding purchase on the bed to press herself more fully against Sei. She took her mouth off Sei's breasts, burying her forehead in the older girl's chest.

"Sei… ah…"

"Yes, baby… you're doing so well…"

Yumi started moaning loudly—she was close now, her movements were growing erratic, and Sei sensed she was about to lose her rhythm. She put one hand on Yumi's butt and, with the other, started stroking the girl's crotch through her pants. Yumi's head collapsed on the bed next to Sei's shoulder, her hips still in the air, almost motionless now as Sei rubbed her even harder.

"Aaaaaaaa… Sei!"

"Just let it happen, baby… just give it up to me..."

Yumi was screaming into the mattress now. A tremor engulfed her whole body. Sei kept stroking her as hard as she could, ignoring the pain in her fingers to keep Yumi in climax as long as possible. At last, her hand couldn't take any more. Yumi fell onto her, panting and dazed.

But Sei wasn't done just yet. As soon as Yumi had caught her breath, she slid out from under the girl, flipped her onto her back, and climbed on top of her. Still limp from exhaustion, Yumi's body offered little resistance as Sei went on to unbutton the girl's pants and pull them off. Yumi's scent hit the older girl's nostrils now, intoxicating her as she pulled off Yumi's panties as well, wet with the girl's thick, white juice. Sei tucked in her hair behind her ears, parted Yumi's legs, and brought her lips to the girl's vagina. Startled by the contact, Yumi opened her eyes.

"Sei, wait! I can't…"

"You should've thought of that before coming in here."

She locked eyes with Yumi and started moving her tongue up and down the girl's outer lips, licking up Yumi's juice, losing herself in the taste. Then she entered Yumi with her tongue, opening up that slit just a little bit further with each caress. Soon, Yumi had started panting and averted her eyes to the ceiling above.

"Look at me," Sei said.

"I can't," Yumi whispered. "I'm embarrassed."

"No. You're hot. Yumi, I swear you look so hot right now. Will you please look at me?"

Yumi smiled. "Okay," she said, pulling a pillow underneath her head so she could keep her eyes on Sei.

Sei placed her tongue on Yumi's clit and eased a finger inside of her. Yumi let out a soft cry; her eyes widened but she didn't look away. Moving her free hand under the girl's butt, Sei started squeezing it as she rubbed her finger up and down the front wall of Yumi's vagina. Then, keeping up the same, steady rhythm with both hands, she sped up her tongue on Yumi's clit. Yumi started moaning more loudly, pushing her vagina into Sei with such force that the older girl had to watch out not to hurt Yumi with her nails. When Sei inserted a second finger, Yumi couldn't take it anymore. She threw back her head, emitted a barely muffled scream, and moments later, she was gushing into Sei's mouth, with Sei lapping up all the girl had to offer.

Sei kept her lips wrapped around Yumi's clit, sucking it ever so tenderly as the younger girl calmed down. Then she slid up to Yumi, laid down next to her, and kissed her on the cheek.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Yumi asked, her face still flushed from the exertion.

"A girl can't kiss and tell."

"I want to do it to you too."

"You will." Sei smiled, stroking Yumi's hair. "Just take a minute. Chill. Enjoy."

"You know that was my first time, right?"

"I guessed as much." Sei grinned.

"Oh no!" Yumi blushed, jerking her body away from Sei. "Did I mess up? Did I do something weird?"

Sei laughed out loud. So the goofy, excitable Yumi she knew from Lillian was still in there somewhere.

"No, silly," she said, pulling Yumi back into her embrace. "You were perfect."

"No," Yumi murmured, circling Sei's nipple with her pinkie, "_you_ were perfect."

She nestled into Sei's arms, resting her head on the older girl's chest. A few mumbled sentences later, she was fast asleep. Sei listened to Yumi's breathing, letting the tranquil sound work its soothing magic on her. She was getting quite drowsy herself. She knew her position was awkward, and she'd probably wake up stiff all over, but she didn't dare move an inch. Sei hadn't told Yumi this, but in a sense, it was her first time as well. Her first time bringing someone to her own home. Her first time falling asleep in someone's arms. She glanced at the window, where the white light of the moon mixed with the yellow light of the city to cast a faint glow into the room, an odd glow that tonight, for the first time, didn't feel like a harsh spotlight trained on her loneliness. The glow seemed to ebb and flow, beckoning Sei down some enchanted path, receding and advancing in a slow, beguiling rhythm. Just as she fell asleep, Sei almost remembered this was the rhythm of Yumi's breath.

* * *

"Tell me what to do."

"Hm?" It took Sei a moment to grasp where she was or who was talking to her.

"Se-ei, wake up."

She looked around. It was still night. Yumi was lying next to her but had propped herself up on one elbow, and the light from the window shone around her in a vague halo, giving her a distant, unearthly look.

"It's my turn," Yumi whispered. "Tell me what to do."

Sei closed her eyes again, deciding not to fully wake up. If this was a dream, it was a pleasant one, and if it was real, she'd be much more relaxed pretending otherwise. She brought her mind back to the glow pulsing in and out of the window.

"Kiss me," she said.

Yumi's lips pressed down on hers.

"Lie down next to me."

Yumi snuggled up to Sei, continuing to kiss her softly.

"Give me your hand."

She felt Yumi's hand alight on her stomach, took it in her own, and brought it up to her mouth. She sucked on Yumi's fingers one by one. Then, slowly, she slid Yumi's wet hand down her breasts and belly before finally guiding it inside her panties. Using Yumi's hand, she started caressing herself. Once she felt wet enough, she parted her own outer lips with the girl's fingers. As soon as Yumi entered Sei's wet slit, she moaned into Sei's open mouth, pushing her tongue in through Sei's lips just as the older girl opened her legs to her. Yumi started moving her finger in and out of Sei. But she was going too quickly for Sei to be able to capture her rhythm.

"Slow down," Sei whispered. "Not yet. Not so fast."

Yumi moved even closer to Sei, wrapping her legs around one of Sei's own legs while her breasts squeezed up against the older girl's side. Sei took Yumi's finger out of her vagina and circled her clit with it. Then, she added another finger and started rubbing them up and down her clit slowly but forcefully.

"Just keep doing that," she said as she took her hand off Yumi's.

As Yumi kept on stroking Sei's clit, Sei stretched both of her arms above her head, grabbing the upper edge of the mattress. She caught Yumi's rhythm, pushing herself against the girl's fingers in sync with her strokes. She opened her mouth wide to receive Yumi's tongue. Yumi was breathing heavily, and Sei felt the girl shift her other hand, the one that wasn't busy pleasuring Sei, until it disappeared between Yumi's own legs. As Yumi started touching herself, her rhythm on Sei's clit grew more insistent, and Sei felt herself rising towards an orgasm. She held out a little longer, distracting herself so Yumi could catch up with her. When she felt Yumi getting close—her breath was growing erratic—Sei let herself go. A rapid succession of unsolicited fantasy images fired off in her mind—Sei spreading her legs for a customer on the counter of the Roxy Music—Yumi entering Sei from behind in the greenhouse at Lillian Academy—Yumi straddling Sachiko on Sachiko's bed at the Ogasawara Mansion. At last, she opened her eyes, shooting Yumi a pleading look.

"Yumi, please… please don't stop. I'm going to come… Yumi, you're going to make me come…"

Yumi's eyes glazed over at these words, and she caught Sei's mouth in a hungry kiss, rubbing Sei's clit so firmly it hurt. Sei's brain exploded in a million shades of white as she surrendered completely, grabbing Yumi's hand and pressing herself against it as hard as she could. From a great distance, as if from the other end of a long tunnel, she could hear Yumi's own cries of pleasure as the younger girl came at the same time as her.

"Sei… Sei!"

"Yumi… kiss me…"

Their lips met again, warmly this time as they eased down from the peak to which Sei had led them. They were so close to each other now, their bodies welded together in heat and sweat, with nothing that could possibly pass between them, not even air. Yumi the petite soeur, Yumi the school mascot, Yumi the younger friend had become Yumi the lover. Sei remained in the tight embrace as long as she felt comfortable, covering Yumi's face with small kisses. Then, she gently extracted herself and got out of bed.

"Where're you going?" Yumi murmured, half asleep.

"Back in a minute."

She stepped through the sparsely decorated living room, her bare feet acutely aware of the cold, laminated floors, and entered the equally impersonal bathroom. Sitting down to pee, she imagined herself alone in the apartment, as she usually was when she woke up around this hour—it helped drive home just how nice it felt to have Yumi here with her. She flushed, walked out into the open kitchen, and got a glass of cold water from the fridge. She was about to return to the bedroom when she changed her mind, heading over to the window façade overlooking the city. She wanted to dwell a while longer in this liminal state, this nowhere time and place where she was alone but not lonely, with Yumi but without her, free but safe in the knowledge that her lover was just a whisper away.

She slid open the glass door and stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air perking up her nipples and sending a tingle down her spine. She looked out over the city, so still, each of its little lights a flickering, far-away diamond. She hated this view in daylight—it revealed the city's grayest, most industrial side—but the night had a way of making everything pretty that looked ugly during the day. She drank her whole glass of water in slow, steady gulps, went back inside, and gingerly pushed the door shut. When she reached the bedroom door, she saw that Yumi had buried herself in the pillows and pulled the covers over her, with just one little foot peeking out from under the duvet. She looked absolutely adorable. Sei couldn't deny that the whole adventure had begun in a less than auspicious way, but now, leaning in this doorframe, watching Yumi asleep in her bed, she felt like something good might come of it after all. Resisting the urge to pinch Yumi's wayward foot, she slid back into bed and spooned the girl from behind. Yumi mumbled faintly as she grasped for Sei's hand and pulled it over her body, placing it on her breast. Sei breathed in through her nose, filling herself with Yumi's warmth and entrancing scent as she slowly drifted off. Perhaps for the first time since moving to this apartment, she looked forward to the morning.


	7. Chapter 7: Sachiko

**A/N:** Welcome back, and congratulations on reaching the final chapter of "Business or Pleasure!" As I said before, this is not the end of the story—merely of Part 1 out of 5. I already have outlines for the remaining parts, but when I'll be able to actually write and post them depends completely on the vagaries and vicissitudes of Life(TM). Still, I take solace in the fact that I'm not leaving you with a total cliffhanger. There is a species of closure to be found here, even though it's not the most uplifting one you could imagine.

**Rating:** This is another hardcore chapter with explicit depictions of sexual intimacy. People who didn't mind the sex in chapter 6 may still have difficulties with this one. The sex is consensual, but it does take place between two people who'd rather not be doing it and only go along with it because they feel they're left with no other choice. In other words, it's quite traumatic, so please proceed with caution.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Sachiko**

* * *

"Welcome home."

Too tired to respond, Sachiko walked through the door that Suguru held open for her. She felt numb. The entire day, she'd been handed from one member of her wedding team to the next, like a baton at a relay race. Following the ceremony at the temple, her driver had whisked her to the hotel where the wedding banquet was to be held. Once there, a crew of outfitters, hair stylists, and make-up artists had given her a complete makeover, switching her kimono for a western-style wedding dress, rearranging her bun into wavy locks, and replacing her chalk-white ceremonial make-up with an imitation of Caucasian skin. The process had taken so long that she'd barely made it to the reception in time. In the opulent wedding hall, she and Suguru had presided over a banquet of more than 500 people. That had meant spending most of the evening making the rounds of the tables, accompanied by an assistant who provided Sachiko with just enough information about each guest to strike up a morsel of polite conversation before moving on to the next invitee. She hadn't even had time to eat, so a waiter, taking pity on her, had handed her a doggy bag when the banquet was finally over. She'd wolfed down the food on the drive home. It had been tasty, probably—she'd been too hungry to tell.

From behind her, she heard Suguru emit a sigh as he quietly closed the door on what would be his and Sachiko's residence from this day onwards: a suite in a disused wing of the Ogasawara Mansion, originally designed for long-term visitors and now retooled to ostensibly fit the needs of the newly married couple. For them, marriage would not be the start of a new life, of adulthood, if what was meant by adulthood was privacy, autonomy, the chance to restart and reimagine one's own life on one's own terms. If anything, they would be under even closer scrutiny than while they were growing up. As the new Executive Director of the Ogasawara Group, Suguru's every word and move would be put under the microscope by elders, rivals, and employees. And as Suguru's wife and the expected mother of his heirs, Sachiko would experience a whole new level of surveillance and censure at the hands of family members, servants, and her wider social circle. They wouldn't even have peace at home—the Ogasawara Mansion may have been Sachiko's home at some point, but she knew that from now on it would more closely resemble a minimum-security prison, albeit one with the trappings of an exclusive boutique hotel.

Drawing a deep breath, Sachiko took in her surroundings. It felt as if she'd walked into the private lair of a Bond villain. The muted, gray carpet flooring, the angular sofa set made of metal and black leather, the mahogany drinks cabinet complemented by a round table for four, the mounted flat-screen TV, and a few pieces of mid-range abstract art all reinforced the reception room's air of drab masculinity. To her left was a door that opened onto a study; its walls were covered in mahogany bookshelves filled with objets d'art and antique-looking books, probably bought by the pound at some vintage home decoration store. A leather reclining chair with a gilded lamp standing next to it and a massive mahogany desk by the window rounded off the illusion that this was the reading room of some well-versed man of letters. To Sachiko's right, another door led into the large bedroom. It was sparsely furnished with an oversized, modern bed and a jarringly baroque make-up table, perhaps an attempt to provide a feminine touch. From the bedroom, one stepped through into two dressing rooms, one for him and one for her. Finally, one last door connected the reception room to a generous bathroom tiled in white with a gray fleur-de-lys motif, apparently a clumsy nod at the Ogasawara women's Lillian pedigree. Sachiko knew the suite had been designed by a prominent interior architect, just as she knew that she wouldn't spend a minute more in it than absolutely necessary. She detested everything about it.

Well, perhaps not everything. Straight ahead, at the far end of the reception room, a set of glass doors led out onto a beautiful stone balcony overlooking the grounds down to the lake. Sachiko thought of the last conversation she'd had down there, with Sato Sei. Sei, who'd refused on principle to come to principled Sachiko's wedding. Sei, who had been right about everything she said that day. But there was the rub: Sachiko had been right as well. And what did one do when two sides were each completely right, and each completely opposed to the other? Sachiko knew the question wasn't logical: if one side was right, the other had to be wrong. But life, so it appeared, didn't care all that much for logic.

A hand came to rest on her shoulder; instinctively, she shrunk away. She'd forgotten that someone else was in the room with her.

Suguru, her husband.

She turned to him; his hand still in mid-air, he couldn't quite mask the expression of hurt on his face.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It won't happen in public, I promise."

She took his hand and smiled at him in what she hoped was an affectionate way, but she knew she wasn't too good at faking emotions—this particular smile, Sei had told her once, registered somewhere on the scale between pity and barely sustained tolerance. None of this was Suguru's fault, she reminded herself. It wasn't his fault that he'd been spawned by the extended Ogasawara clan. It wasn't his fault that he'd been chosen as Toru's protégé. And it wasn't his fault that he didn't love her. Couldn't love her. Couldn't or didn't, what was the difference, though, really? The outcome was the same. They were both here, and they both knew what was expected of them next. They were lucky, Sachiko pondered, that they hadn't lived a couple of hundred years ago; people might have actually accompanied them into the bedroom to witness the consummation of the marriage. But again, witness or no, the outcome was the same. This would be the night Ogasawara Sachiko lost her virginity, and Ogasawara Suguru laid with a woman for the first time in his life.

"How about a drink?" Suguru asked, pulling away his hand and shuffling over to the cabinet.

"No, thank you," Sachiko said as she watched her husband pour himself a full tumbler of whisky. He hadn't touched more than a celebratory flute of champagne at the banquet, playing the gentleman groom to perfection. But the ceremony was over, and Sachiko looked on in amazement as Suguru put away the entire glass in three violent gulps. Why was it, she wondered, that men were held to a lower standard of decorum than women, whether in public or in private? It was, of course, a rhetorical question. Cultures around the world, including the Catholic culture of Lillian, connected women with attributes of sinfulness and guile. They were supposed to be born with these attributes, which meant they needed to be disciplined and policed—by others, yes, but much more importantly, by themselves. Women were taught not to trust themselves, to second-guess their own motives, to be self-conscious at all times, to assume there was something wrong with the natural state of things. And why? The reason was so simple it made Sachiko want to laugh. The reason was why she and Suguru were in this room right now: to propagate and protect some family's bloodline.

Suguru was pouring himself another glass. She needed to intervene, or this evening would end even more distastefully than it had to.

"Suguru, why don't you put that down?" Slowly, she walked over to him.

"I'm sorry," he said, letting go of the bottle and glass.

Sachiko arrived at his side, screwed the lid back on the bottle, and, on impulse, brought the glass to her own lips. Surely, she thought, a little shot of courage couldn't hurt. She took a sip, but the harshness of the liquor made her cough. Suguru laughed.

"It's late," she said, trying to mask her irritation. "We should go to bed."

"Ah yes, to bed," Suguru said, sounding a tad more sarcastic than Sachiko felt he was entitled to. Fair enough, this couldn't be easy for him either, but at least he liked sex in principle, and at least he'd done it before, and at least he'd get to do it with others again in the future, and at least he wouldn't have to bear any children.

Suguru seemed to have sensed that something was amiss, for he plastered on a charming smile, held out his arm to her, and led her into the bedroom. Once there, Sachiko let go of him and fled into the dressing room. Her wardrobe had already been taken there by the mansion staff. She noticed quite a few garments that she didn't recognize, and though she couldn't tell at first glance, she was pretty certain her mother had weeded out many of her old, favorite clothes, no doubt to make sure she looked the part of the respectable wife. She wrestled out of her wedding gown and put on a dark blue, satin negligée that looked like something from an eighties Hollywood film. Covering her exposed flesh with a black satin bathrobe, she braced herself and walked back out. Suguru had changed into a pair of wine-colored pajamas. He was standing next to the bed, pointlessly gazing around. When he saw her, he snapped to attention.

"I know we already talked about this," he said, "but I just need to ask one more time."

Oh no, Sachiko thought. Not this again.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he went on.

Of course I'm not sure, she thought. And of course I don't want to do this. But she said nothing.

Seemingly encouraged by her silence, Suguru pressed on.

"I told you," he said, "I have absolutely no problem with you taking a lover. I'm perfectly willing to accept any child you'd have as my own. That way, we wouldn't have to go through with this…" he raised his arms in a gesture of feeble revolt, "…this whole thing."

How dare you bring this up again? Sachiko thought. Do you really think you're handing me a lifeline, letting me off the hook in some way? Don't you realize that the only one you're letting off the hook is yourself? Funny, she mused. If this was Yumi standing across from me now, or even Sei, I wouldn't hesitate a second to tear into her for such a suggestion. But you are my husband. And so, I mustn't tell you anything.

She walked up to him and put a hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry," she said, amazed that she was apologizing for this, "but I won't sleep with anyone else. For better or worse, I'm married to you."

"What about artificial insemination?"

"People would get suspicious. Why would a newlywed couple need artificial insemination?"

"Well… what if we just waited for a few months and then told people we need medical help?"

"Is this some kind of game to you?" Sachiko couldn't help it—her temper was getting the better of her. "I'm the one who has to do everything! Have sex for the first time ever—with you! Bear your children! Raise them! Stay true to this… this… marriage! There's literally just one thing you need to do, a single thing—get me pregnant! Is that really so odious to you? If I'm prepared to do it, why aren't you?"

"Hey, I just thought that since neither of us actually wants this, it would make more sense to…"

"More sense? How would that make more sense? Do you think they'll let us go to the hospital alone? And how do you think they'll react when the doctor says there's nothing wrong with us? Or when they find out I'm still a virgin? How do you think that will play out?"

"I'm sorry. I…"

"Do you honestly believe you're doing me a favor here?"

"I…"

"There is no loophole, Suguru! This is what we signed up for!"

"OKAY!" Suguru shouted.

Frightened by his sudden outburst, Sachiko took a step back. Suguru closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and held out his hands to her.

"Okay," he repeated. "I'm sorry. I get it. Okay."

He was silent for a moment. Then, rather uncomfortably, he looked her up and down. It seemed like there was something more he wanted to say.

"What is it?" Sachiko asked.

"Well, seeing as how we're really going to do this… May I ask you for something?"

"Go ahead."

"Could you… could you remove your make-up? And maybe… tie up your hair?"

Sachiko looked at him with dead eyes. It had taken her stylists ages to fix her make-up and hair. But apparently, Suguru wasn't impressed. Apparently, Suguru wanted her plain.

"Will that make me look more like a boy?" It was a catty remark, and Sachiko regretted it the instant she made it.

"Probably not, but at least we can try!" Suguru rolled his eyes at his own comment. "I'm sorry. That wasn't nice."

"It's okay," Sachiko whispered, turning away so he wouldn't see how close she was to tears. "I have to do it eventually, anyway."

Without waiting for a response, she rushed to the bathroom. She turned on the glamour lights around the mirror, placed her hands on the counter, and took a long look at her face, her professional make-up, her stylish hair. Who had it all been for, she wondered. Clearly not for Suguru. And clearly not for the people her father had summoned to the banquet, those despicable, rotten businessmen, their worthless trophy wives, the ostentatious widows and heiresses, and their perfumed gigolos. Not for her Lillian friends, who hadn't even been invited to the reception. Not for Yoko, who'd put on such a brave face for her petite soeur. And not for Yumi, whom Sachiko had prayed, in vain and against her better judgement, to see at the wedding one last time.

She stopped cold in her own train of thought. Such selfish complaints, she chided herself, scrubbing away at her make-up as if to erase her own frustration. Rituals weren't there for the sake of this person or that. They were there for their own sake, to give people the feeling they were part of something older than them, more permanent than them, something that would be there whether they were there or not, something to reassure them that life wasn't random, that there were rules, structures, forces in this world. Did those rules, structures, forces really exist? Or were they just a collective illusion shored up by a million hands? Her teachers at Lillian wouldn't have liked the idea. But to Sachiko, as she gathered up her hair, there was something heroic about it.

She glanced at the mirror one last time. Did she look any more like a boy than before? It was doubtful. Switching off the light, she returned to the reception room. There was no evidence of Suguru here. In fact, the room was so still and untouched that for a moment, Sachiko couldn't stop her mind from indulging in a ludicrous fancy. What if she'd just imagined the whole wedding? What if she'd just come home after a long day out and absent-mindedly wandered into the wrong quarters? Why go to bed here when she could just open the door to the suite, step outside, and walk to her own room? This was her family home, after all—who could say anything? Feeling strangely disembodied, as if watching herself from afar, she went over to the handsome double doors. Gingerly, she opened the right one just a crack.

"Sachiko-sama? Did you need anything?"

Two servants, one male and one female, were waiting outside the door. She had no doubt that her father had stationed them there. She knew they wouldn't stop her if she tried to leave the suite, but her father would be up in her bedroom in a matter of minutes. And the rest would not be pretty.

"Thank you, no," she said calmly. "I just wanted to make sure you were here in case you're needed. Good night."

"Good night, Sachiko-sama," the two responded in unison.

Sachiko let the door click shut and rested her forehead against it. She hadn't come to this room by random chance after all. She'd entered by her own choice. When she'd first heard about her engagement and hadn't objected, she'd made a choice. Every day since then, every day she'd stayed engaged to Suguru, she'd made the same choice. She'd made it when she sent away Yumi and Sei. She'd made it at the temple and the ballroom. And now, all those silent choices over all those days and years had led her into this room, and no choice she could make right now had a chance of stopping their gathered, invisible force. She turned around. Suguru was standing at the bedroom door. Most probably, he'd witnessed the whole scene. He walked up to her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be." He cautiously put a hand on her shoulder. "It's my fault. I've been selfish. I know this is more unpleasant for you than for me. But it's just…" he shrugged. "It's just too easy to play the little boy and have you pick up the slack. Because I know you will. Because that's who you are. Strong." He brushed a few wayward strands of hair from her face. "Responsible. Reliable. It's easy to let oneself go around you. Because you'll make up for it. Because that's who you are."

"Thank you, Suguru. That's kind of you to say."

She knew his words were true. And part of her was proud of it. As frustrated as she got with the irresponsible behavior of others, part of her welcomed it, because it meant that she could step in and take charge, stroking her ego by setting things right. But it wasn't right. It was pride. Pride made her assume she could handle what others couldn't. Pride made her bite off more than she could chew. Pride had brought her into this room tonight.

Suguru took her by the hand, and she let him lead her back to the bedroom. They came to a halt, facing each other, at the foot of the bed. He took of his pajama shirt. He looked pretty, Sachiko thought, with his subtle but defined musculature running like fine sand dunes all the way from his delicate neck to his arms and shoulders, down his perfectly shaved chest and abs to his slim, elegant waistline. He exuded a warmth that enticed the irrational side of her, making her want to pull him in, embrace him, and somehow, through sheer will, leap across the gap that kept them apart. She wished she could just erase it all, all that pushed her away from him, even the fact that he was Suguru, that she was Sachiko. Couldn't she just be an animal, with him as her animal mate? Couldn't she just abandon herself to the heat without thinking, just live it to the fullest, burn it out in living it, burn it out so thoroughly that she remembered nothing afterwards?

She caught herself, embarrassed at her own thoughts. They were so alien to her nature that she could hardly explain them to herself. Was she really so desperate about sleeping with her lawfully wedded husband that she'd rather retreat into a fantasy of bestial, anonymous sex? That was not her. That couldn't be her.

He took hold of the sash of her bathrobe, but Sachiko arrested his hand. "Please," she said, "let me do it myself. In bed. Alone. I… I feel too self-conscious."

"Of course." He let her go.

Without looking at him, she got under the covers and wriggled out of her clothes in as dignified a manner as possible. She took off her panties as well—the idea that Suguru should be the one to undress her, unwrapping her like a birthday present, was just too much for her. Finally, she shoved her clothes out of bed so they wouldn't get touched during the act. Only then did she look up at him.

"Come," she whispered.

Suguru stripped off his pajama pants. He stood naked before her now, his legs as shapely, and clean-shaven, as the rest of his body. And between them hung his penis. It was the first time that Sachiko had seen a real one of these. She'd glanced at some, against her will, in the random ads that popped up online, but Suguru's looked nothing like those on the internet, which always seemed huge, proud, erect, and menacing, somewhat like blunt instruments of torture. Instead, his was small and wrinkled, hanging limply from his groin. He was hairless down there as well, which made his member look like that of a boy, a naked, useless piece of flesh attached to an equally indifferent pair of testicles.

Clearly uncomfortable with her gaze, Suguru retreated to his side of the bed and slipped under the covers with her. Now they were both lying there, next to each other, staring at the ceiling, neither of them daring to speak or move. Sachiko was still processing the sight of Suguru in all his glory. She suddenly felt paralyzed by the thought that seeing—and doing—this would have to become part of her routine for years to come, at least until a sufficient number of children had materialized.

At long last, Suguru slid over to her. Placing his hand on her stomach, he started kissing her face. His lips worked their way from her forehead across her cheeks and down to her neck at an irritatingly slow pace, seemingly following some predetermined route. Each kiss was marked by a little breathing noise and left a tiny trace of moisture in its wake. All the while, their bodies made no contact except for the hand on her stomach and the lips on her face. The whole thing was so awkward that Sachiko felt pretty sure it couldn't be part of Suguru's sexual behavior with men. He might have thought that a girl expected this—perhaps he'd seen it in a movie somewhere. It was probably supposed to get her in the mood, but she wasn't in the mood, and he wasn't in the mood, and what he didn't seem to realize was that no amount of rehearsed foreplay would get them there. This needed to be quick and be over—for both their sakes.

"Suguru?"

"Yes?" He looked up from her collarbone.

"Can we just… do it and get it over with?"

Suguru sighed in relief. "I'm so glad you asked that. You're not really enjoying this, are you?"

"Oh!" Sachiko feigned shock. "How could you tell?" Despite herself, she had to giggle. Before long, Suguru joined in, and they were chuckling away like two children under the sheets, probably more to relieve the tension, Sachiko thought, than because she'd said something genuinely funny.

"Okay," Suguru said, "let's do this, then." He smiled. "Why don't you just… you know, spread your legs… and I'll see what I can do."

"Okay," Sachiko whispered.

Barely touching her body, Suguru climbed on top of Sachiko while propping himself up on his arms and legs. His chest brushed against her nipples, making her shudder at the unfamiliar sensation, but he didn't allow his body to rest on hers. Still in the same position, he grabbed his penis with one hand and tried to place it on Sachiko's vagina. But it was too soft; it didn't offer enough resistance to force its way into her, and no matter how much he touched her with it, it didn't get any harder. Sachiko noticed that Suguru was getting very uncomfortable. He was blushing, faintly perspiring, trembling with the effort of keeping propped up, and his eyes were darting all over the room, searching for something, anything to fix on, it seemed, anything but Sachiko herself.

For the first time ever, Sachiko found herself pitying him. Suguru had such a flawless persona in everyday life. He was suave, debonair, and could charm the pants off anyone around him, whether man or woman. Since their childhood, he'd always seemed to know just what to say and how to behave at any given time. And now, here he was, Ogasawara Suguru, the golden boy of the clan, the future of its business empire, desperately trying to insert his flaccid penis into the dry vagina of someone who had no interest in sleeping with him, and he was plainly at his wits' end. Sachiko didn't remember ever seeing him as exposed and vulnerable as he seemed at this instant. Those who were jealous of Suguru—and there were many, especially now—would have killed to see him like this.

"It's hopeless." With a profound sigh, Suguru slumped back down at Sachiko's side. "I'm sorry, Sa-chan. I just can't get it to work."

Sachiko took a deep breath. If she didn't want this whole marriage to end up as an object lesson in failure, and both of them as laughing stocks of the entire extended clan, she needed to do something.

"What do you normally do when this happens?" she asked.

"It doesn't," he whispered.

"But it… doesn't happen… with boys, right? You've never done it with a woman."

"You know I haven't."

"Well, then I guess your first instinct was right. I need to be as much of a boy for you as I can. Would it help if I turned around? You wouldn't see my face, or my chest."

"Maybe. I suppose. I don't know."

"Let's give it a try." Sachiko rolled over and lifted herself up on all fours. "Why don't we try it like this?"

"Okay." Getting up on his knees, Suguru moved behind her. Then, suddenly, she felt his wet hand on her vagina. Shocked by the unexpected contact, she leapt forward.

"What are you doing?" she shouted.

"I'm trying to get you wet!" he yelped. "I'm never going to get in there as long as you're dry like this!"

"Okay, don't do that." She couldn't help it—it was just too disgusting. How had he even gotten that hand wet? With his spit? Had his spit seriously just touched… But there was no use in thinking of this, none at all. Suguru had a point.

"How about this?" she ventured. "I'll try to get myself ready, and in the meantime, you do the same."

"Fine," Suguru said, sounding anything but fine. Still, a moment later, Sachiko could hear him rubbing away, presumably trying to get himself hard. Staying on all fours, she brought a hand down to her vagina and started touching it cautiously. To say she wasn't a very sexed person would have been an understatement—she'd never even masturbated before. The only times she remembered getting wet were in dreams, or sometimes in daydreams, when she'd lost herself in some unconscious reverie. But she'd never made a planned effort, and she most definitely hadn't used her hand to make it happen. Perhaps, she thought, it would help to remember those dreams. Not just to get herself wet, but to escape the here and now, to redeem what was, after all, her first sexual encounter. But no. Her whole being revolted against dragging her dreams, whatever they may have been, into this terrible moment. They would get sullied, instrumentalized, and one day, if by any chance she wanted to connect to them again, she would no longer find them as they were.

None of this was helping. She kept up the pretense of touching herself, but she felt just as dry as before.

"Can I say stuff?" Suguru asked suddenly.

"What?"

"It… it turns me on to talk during sex. Is it okay if I say stuff? It might help."

"Fine," Sachiko groaned in exasperation. "If you think it'll do something."

"But you have to promise not be offended. It's just a game." He hesitated. "And you can't laugh."

"Believe me, Suguru, laughing is the last thing I feel like doing right now."

"Okay."

For a while, Suguru was quiet. Then he grabbed Sachiko's waist with both hands and pressed his soft penis against her bottom. Sachiko gasped in surprise.

"You like that, don't you, you little bitch?"

Sachiko barely stopped herself from yelling at him. No one had ever talked to her like that, and she definitely hadn't expected her husband, on their wedding night, to be the first. But she reined herself in. He'd said it was just a game. He was simply trying to get off. She'd have to put up with it.

"You want me to fuck you, don't you?"

Sachiko didn't know if she was supposed to answer, but even if she was, she couldn't.

"You're a virgin little twink, aren't you? Never been fucked before, huh? Well, I'm gonna break you in. I'm gonna fuck you so hard you'll forget where you are. Hell, you'll forget who you are."

Suguru was rubbing his penis harder against her now, and Sachiko could feel something stirring in the little lump of flesh.

"I love fucking hairless little boys like you. You always squeal so good. And boy, will I make you squeal. You're gonna open that twinky little ass of yours, you're gonna open wide, and I'm gonna fill it with my cock. I'll fill it so good you'll itch for me. You'll itch for my cock up your ass when you're walking down the street."

It's a game, Sachiko told herself. Calm down. He knows where he needs to put it. Calm down. It's all a game.

"Fuck yeah. Yeah! Your ass feels so good against my cock."

This seemed to be true, for Suguru's member had grown quite firm and hot on her backside.

"Oh yeah. Ohhh! That's good."

Sachiko almost panicked when she felt a wetness on her skin. He couldn't have already ejaculated, right? She wanted to turn around, to wipe the disgusting fluid off herself. She wanted out of this position, out of this room, and, suddenly but blindingly clearly, out of this life. But she forced herself to stay still. With every fiber of her being screaming at her to get out, just leave, no matter the cost, she didn't budge. This was the moment she'd been trained for. This was exactly what a lifetime of self-denial and discipline was supposed to allow her to bear. What was happening right now would be over soon. One way or another, she'd survive it. But she wouldn't survive if she ran—at least not the Ogasawara Sachiko she'd spent a lifetime believing she was. And that was the only Sachiko she knew. And so, she stood still.

All of a sudden, she felt him hard against her vagina. He was forcing his way in. It was finally happening.

"Yeah, bitch. Open wide. I'm gonna fuck you till you drop."

Suguru pressed forward, parting her dry vaginal lips with little more than the brute force of his penis. Sachiko cried out in pain.

"Are… are you alright?"

"Just do it, idiot!" she yelled.

She seemed to have worried him, for he switched to quick thrusts, entering her ever so slightly each time before pulling out again. At first, this was less painful, but before long, Sachiko could feel all the dry rubbing chafe her skin. He wasn't even inside her yet, and she was sure that soon she'd be sore, perhaps even bleeding. But then, something unexpected happened. Her body started responding. She felt a warmth stirring in her vagina, a humidity spreading through it and out towards her lips. She definitely hadn't willed this. She wasn't enjoying what was going on. But it seemed like her body was reacting instinctively, as if in self-defense, to minimize the harm being done to it. Sachiko couldn't help but feel strangely betrayed, betrayed by her own body. She knew that getting wet would make this more physically bearable, but that wasn't all. It was also making her feel things. Things she didn't care to feel.

Suguru had noticed something. He was pushing ahead for real now. She felt a bit of it enter. Then, with the next push, a little more. Then, a little bit more. He was pushing so strongly that she braced herself so she wouldn't collapse on the bed. She felt a sharp pain, like someone had pinched her down there, but on the inside. That had to have been her hymen. And then, he was fully in. Thankfully, he wasn't talking anymore. He fucked her—there really was no other word for it—fast and forcefully, as if using her body to masturbate. Sachiko didn't make a sound, biting down on her lip so hard that it hurt, so hard that it distracted her, as much as it could, from the bizarre, revolting jumble of sensations invading her lower half and, from there, her heart and mind. Was this what animal lust felt like? If so, it truly was animal, for it was challenging her will, challenging her mastery over her body, and Sachiko couldn't stop it. Another few minutes of this and she didn't know what she would do. Would she whip around and tear off his head? Would she lose herself in this brutish, inhuman fucking? Both prospects seemed equally horrid. She looked down and saw a drop of blood on the sheet. Apparently, she'd bitten clean through her lip.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Sachiko felt her insides being flushed with a warm goo. It felt as if he'd just peed in her, except that the liquid was too thick and sticky to be urine. It was utterly repulsive. But at least it was over. Suguru had finished. He pressed himself into her with one final thrust, but it was more than she could take. She jerked away, tearing herself off his penis, hurting herself even more. She collapsed on the bed.

"Sa-chan…"

She didn't answer. She couldn't answer.

"Sa-chan, I'm so sorry…"

"Shut up!" Sachiko recoiled from the fury of her own voice. She hoped the servants hadn't heard. "Please, Suguru," she whispered, "just shut up. Just leave me alone." She crawled under the sheets, slid as close to the edge of the bed as she could, and curled up in a ball. "Please just leave me alone."

Suguru didn't make a sound. She was sure he felt pretty rotten himself right now, but she couldn't help it. He'd just have to deal with it. Especially after all the stuff he'd said. She wondered if that was all sex was to Suguru—a power game. She wondered if that was all sex was, period. As long as one side had a penis, it seemed it needed to be. Was that what attracted Sei to girls? The promise of equality? But it couldn't be. Power could never be equally balanced, no more between girls than anyone else. Lillian, with its hierarchies both formal and informal, had taught her that.

"Sa-chan?"

Again, she didn't answer. But Suguru sounded different now, as if all those ugly words had never passed his lips.

"Remember when we were kids, when we played at your summer house?"

She kept shutting him out, but of course she remembered. Two children under the sheets, just like now, nothing like now.

"Do you remember the nights? When you went to sleep? I used to sing you a lullaby. Your favorite one."

_Of course she remembered. Once upon a time, before learning about the engagement, about his sexuality, even about sexuality itself, she'd adored Suguru. He'd been her idol, her childhood archetype of a crush, a friend, an older brother, even. He'd always taken such care of her. The perfect little gentleman. The future had looked so bright: she'd wait, the time would come, they'd marry, and they would be together forever. Well, they'd gotten married, alright. But they'd never been further apart than tonight._

And then, Suguru began to sing. He didn't touch her or even come close to her. But the melody was so beautiful, his voice so tender and caring. And once again, Sachiko couldn't help but marvel at him. There was something about him, a human core, a kind of basic decency that had somehow remained pristine in spite of everything that had happened since they were kids. Right now, singing her to sleep, he was no longer the unwilling husband who'd had to resort to the vilest abuse just to be able to sleep with her. He was that handsome, thoughtful boy again. And Sachiko, who hadn't shed a single tear throughout her wedding day, not when she'd been pronounced his wife, nor when she'd endured him inside of her, couldn't keep it in anymore. Soundlessly, she started weeping. And as Suguru went on singing, she could feel the melody mix with her tears in a river of water and sound. And as she'd done so many times as a child, she gently eased herself into its current and let it carry her away.


End file.
